


Simon Snow vs. the Heteronormal Agenda

by chip_off_the_writers_block



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Simon vs AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 23,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chip_off_the_writers_block/pseuds/chip_off_the_writers_block
Summary: Simon has never owned a mobile, because the Mage has never been for it, but after Penny begging him to get one for the millionth time, he finally caves. Along with the joy of finally getting to talk to Penny whenever he wants (even on holiday!), Simon gets to chat with Agatha on occasion, and discovers the Watford Tumblr tag. Life is perfect, until Agatha breaks up with him, someone from Watford comes out anonymously on tumblr, and Simon’s world is turned upside down.Baz never expected to get contacted about his coming out. He figured he would be insulted, that people filled with hate would hold nothing back when they didn’t associate his name and face with his confession. But the letter in his inbox isn’t full or hate in scorn. Instead, it holds a damning declaration: “Dear Mr. Pitch, I’m just like you.”-----The Simon vs. the Homosapien’s Agenda story adapted to another famous and queer Simon in fiction.





	1. 1

**Simon**

**@pennyforyourthoughts has sent you a message:**

_“Seven Causes of not Being Able to Control Your Magic and how to Prevent Them”_

[link]

 **@pennyforyourthoughts** has sent you a message:

I know this looks like clickbait, but it’s actually a super helpful article that discusses the intricacies of the origins of magic and how that affects our spellcasting now.

 **@mightaswellbelove** has sent you a message:

[link]

arent these so pretty?

 **@pennyforyourthoughts** has sent you a message:

[link]

This one is on the history of spellcasting pieces.

 **@mightaswellbelove** has sent you a message:

my parents are taking me to a party tonight. boring

When Penny first started asking me to get a mobile, I didn’t understand the need. I saw her pretty much every day, and I didn’t need a phone to do that. When the Mage sent me back to a home for the summer, I still didn’t want one. None of the other boys had one, and I didn’t want a target on my back. It made it easier to forget Watford, to not wish that I could stay there over the holiday, if I didn’t have a reminder of what I missed so much.

But Penny kept asking. And asking. For years. And I kept saying no. And eventually, she must have figured I never said yes because orphans don’t have money (she’s not wrong), and straight up just bought me one. For my birthday.

It’s a smartphone, complete with a touch screen and everything, and although Penny gives me a whole spiel about how she can return it if I hate it or feel offended, she was right. I love it. I would never tell her or the Mage that my usual holiday tactics have felt much more like paranoia lately, and that I was really dreading going back to the home until now.

But now I have something better than magic. I have a rectangle of electricity that holds exactly two numbers: Penny’s and Agatha’s. I have a few apps, mostly games and things, but also Tumblr. Watford has a special “mages only” tag, which means that someone smart like Penny made it so Normals can’t find it. It has made the summer much more manageable than all my previous ones, and the Watford Tumblr is really fun. It’s a little frustrating, sometimes, seeing people like Dev and Garrett getting to practice magic over the summer. Magic is just such a constant in their lives, and I’m not allowed to join in. The countless gossip and musings about classmates and relationships is very tiring. Even if Penny tells people how “problematic” it is to talk about people behind their backs. Especially when Penny is telling people they’re “problematic,” really.

Not all of the tag is a pain, though. There are lots of funny gifs and plenty of people being nice. There’s even a private messaging option. I use that mostly to talk to Penny. She spends most of our messages over the summer worrying about me eating enough, or telling me about her summer with Micah, but I still enjoyed her electronic company. I’ve even gotten to talk to Agatha a little bit, even though she’s not supposed to talk to me over the summer.

My mobile lights up.

 **@mightaswellbelove** sent you a message: when do you get back to watford? i want to talk to you

I can’t help the smile on my face. Watford is so close that I can feel its magic tingling in my bones, and I feel like I am just as happy as yesterday. Or a little more, because I’m here again, but I’m much more happy than I was last year when I came back. It’s my last year, and I didn’t shut magic out all summer, and I’m just so happy. Not even thinking about moving in with Baz can ruin this. Everything is perfect.


	2. 2

**Simon**

Everything is not perfect.

Agatha breaks up with me after the welcome dinner. She said she wanted to talk to me, and I thought she wanted us to pose on a windowsill and look cute while she tells me about all the things I can do better (there are a lot). But instead, she tells me we are done. I am certain it has something to do with Baz, but when I ask Agatha she just gives me a weird look.

Either way, the next few days will be pretty difficult, even on Tumblr. Right now, it’s buzzing with chatter about the Veil opening up, but once word starts spreading, well... Maybe it’s foolish of me to think I’m important enough for this to cause trouble, but Watford students really like to gossip. It’s going to be insufferable. Especially Baz. He’s always insufferable, but now…

Crowley, Baz is going to to completely end me. I can already imagine him, with his stupid perfect face and stupid perfect hair, sneering at me.

“Wellbelove finally realized she could do better than you, huh, Chosen One?” He’d say. “About time.”

Bastard.

I don’t want to deal with him and his stupid smug face, so instead of going to my room, I go back to the dining hall and Penny. I think it’s selfish of me to go straight to Penny, since she’s Agatha’s friend, too, but Agatha is nowhere to be seen. Still, she must have told Penny, because when I sit back next to her, she slides a sour cherry scone over to me even though I’ve already had nine. She even warmed it up for me before I sit down, and it’s hot when I pick it up. I end up eating two more after that one, both because they’re so good, and because I could just sit and not go back to my room while I eat them.

Eventually Penny wants to study, and I think about offering my room for her to work. It’s a win-win situation, since she doesn’t like her roommate, Trixie (“She’s just so vapid, Simon.”), and Baz always seems to be a bit nicer when she’s around. I believe it’s because the two of them have a grudging respect for each other, since they’re both “appreciators of academia” or whatnot. Penny does look awfully tired, though, and although I know she likes my room better than hers, sneaking her up to it is a bit of a chore, and I can’t do that to her when she’s tired.

So I let her go, and I walk around the halls of Watford. I don’t do it for long, but it’s nice anyway. Look at the walls, remember it’s all real. I walk back and forth between the stairs to the boy’s tower and the dining hall twice, pretending to be more interested in the windows than I am. By the second time I’m walking towards the stairs, I’m tired of avoiding my room. So I stop avoiding it.

Baz is inside our room when I open the door. He’s sitting on his bed, reading. He glances up at me when I walk in, before going back to his book. There’s nothing particularly odd about what he does, but I can feel something is wrong. There’s magic in the air.

Baz says I’m irritatingly simple, and that’s why my magic goes off. I show too much emotion, and my magic follows suit. But if I show too much emotion, Baz shows none at all. I’m sure if I cast **“Freeze!”** on his face, no one would notice for weeks. He never goes off, and he never uses more magic than he intends. But I feel his magic now.

I don’t think I should say anything, but I must have been staring, because by the time I shuffle over to my half of the room, Baz is looking at me again.

“Problem, Snow?” Baz’s voice is gruff and deep, because of course it is. Show off.

“Oh, yes,” I say smoothly. “Tons, in fact. Most of them involving you. The main one being that you exist.”

I am not facing Baz, and am instead pulling my pyjamas out to get ready for bed, but I can hear Baz snap his book shut rather loudly. I can also hear his drawers, so he must be getting ready for bed, too.

I think the sound of his dresser drawers opening caused me to let my guard down, because a moment later, when he speaks (no, speak is the wrong word. It’s more of a hiss) inches from my ear, it startles me. And sends a shiver of shock down my spine. I barely keep myself from elbowing him on reflex, which is good, because of the anathema.

“If your problem is with my existence,” he says. No. Hisses. “Then all I have to do to fix the problem is kill you.”

Heat rushes to my ears, and I feel magic crackling beneath my skin. I spin around, ready to face him, but he’s already gone. With a loud thunk, the bathroom door closes, and all that’s left is me and the sound of running water. I change rather quickly, and wait impatiently for Baz to finish with the shower so I can brush my teeth. I try not to bounce on my bed, and file the entire incident under my list of things I don’t think about.

The rest of the night passes in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am generally going to upload chapters on Friday, so don't get too used to this lol.
> 
> Don't be shy about feedback, and definitely follow me on Tumblr so I can get better feedback about whetehr I should post more often sometimes!
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	3. 3

**Simon**

As I expected, the morning comes with a lot of whispering in the halls. I try not to think about it or listen, and that works pretty well. Baz didn’t say anything this morning, but I’m sure he knows by now.

 

Agatha doesn’t sit with us at breakfast, which makes Penny very cross.

 

“I don’t understand why she insists on not sitting with us now,” She huffs. “It’s not as if we can’t be friends now that you and her aren’t dating.”

 

“She can sit wherever she wants, Pen,” I say in between bites of scone and sausage. “Even when we were dating, sometimes she didn’t sit with us. You know, feminism and all that.”

 

I’m not sure if Penny could tell that I didn’t want to talk about Agatha anymore, or if I had actually made a good point, but either way she drops the topic. And even though all my classes are hard, and I’m awful at every class with subtleties in them, the day is actually very calm. None of the younger girls give me flowers or chocolate, which is a relief, and Baz still doesn’t say anything to me all day. Even in Greek, which everyone knows I’m pants at.

 

By the time dinner rolls around, I’m very confused. I know people have been gossiping today, but I’m starting to think I don’t actually know what they’re gossiping about.

 

Penny is ahead of me, as usual, because when I sit down at dinner, she immediately pulls out her phone.

 

“I don’t think you’ll be getting any crap about you and Agatha for a while, Simon,” she says while tapping vigorously on her screen. “There was a post on the Watford Tumblr tag that has everyone’s attention now.”

 

Part of me is immensely relieved, but something doesn’t quite sit right with me. I’m sure Penny would say it’s my hero complex. My phone lights up, broadcasting the notification: “ **@pennyforyourthoughts** has sent you a message:”

I open the message, and click on the link to the post.

 

**Anonymous said:**

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a ferris wheel. High above it all one moment, far beneath my peers the next. I suppose my life has been charmed up until now, except for the fact that I’m gay.

\- pitchblackherb128@gmail.com

 

I read through the post twice, because I feel like I’m missing something the first time. I don’t quite understand why people care so much about this, but when I click on the notes, I see that I am quite alone. Many of the comments are rude, slurs thrown around as if this were a game. Others are guessing, trying to find out who is the mysterious bloke behind the blog. Somehow, it makes me feel like the unease I had going into this was justified.

 

“Pen, what is this?”

 

“Someone at Watford is gay,” Penny says with a shrug. “And people care about it. More than I think they should, honestly. I mean, give the poor guy a break.”

 

She then changes the topic, and we finish our food in light chatter. The post stays in the back of my mind, though.

 

After dinner, Penny takes me to the library, because even though none of our homework is due for ages, she wants to study. So I sit with her, and actually manage to get half of an assignment done. For the most part, though, I think about the post. The one on Tumblr. Obviously, I know gay people exist. Penny’s roommate has a girlfriend, and they’ve always been happy. But no one at Watford has ever come out, and definitely not like this.

 

It’s not as if this is a particularly public statement, since it was made anonymously, but he did leave an email linked in his anonymous post, which can’t have gone well for him, if the notes of the post meant anything. I pester Penny about it once or twice more, but both times she says it’s written by someone who doesn’t want to be out, just listened to.

 

But there’s something about this that just sticks with me, and I don’t know what it is. I file it with the other things that I don’t want to think about, and try to work for a little longer.

 

I’m usually very good at not thinking about things on my list, but something about this keeps coming back into my head. It feels like there’s something stuck under my skin, and only by thinking about this will I itch the feeling away.

 

I ignore it through the rest of my study time with Penny, and when I brush my teeth, and even resign myself to a night of tossing and turning to avoid thinking about it longer. Classes the next day are hard, harder than usual. I can’t pay attention much in class at all, and what I do listen to, I don’t understand. I can’t shake the feeling that I need to be thinking about something, that thing, and by the time I’m done with dinner I am so tired of fighting my brain that I head to bed early.

 

Baz is already in my room when I walk in, working at his desk. I shuffle over to my dresser and pull out the comfiest clothes I have: grey joggers and a Watford Polo shirt Agatha gave me. I feel a twinge in my chest at the thought of Agatha, but still wear the shirt. ‘Cuz it’s soft.

 

I brush my teeth and flop down on my bed after changing, happy to finally be comfortable. I can hear Baz muttering to himself, probably complaining about how lazy I am. Normally, I’d be angry, but I’m too tired and have other matters to attend to.

 

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let myself think about the post.

 

I don’t understand why I’m so hung up about this post. This random boy and I have nothing in common. I have never thought about other guys before, but now that I think about it, maybe that’s because I’ve always had Agatha. 

 

I can feel myself starting to drift off, but I try to think about it anyway, just to try. I start with Penny’s boyfriend, Micah, who is very pretty. I move on to boys in my class, then Dev and Niall, Baz’s henchmen, and finally to Baz. Baz, with his brooding and plotting. Baz, with his long, dark hair. Baz, who always makes me angry, and flirts with Agatha. Baz who moves more quietly than a breeze. Baz, who is scary and sharp just to show off that he can be. Baz...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear we'll get to someone else's perspective soon.
> 
> I like criticism, and please point out if I have any typos or anything!
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	4. 4

**Baz**

I didn’t really intend to post that thing on Tumblr, and I definitely didn’t intend to get that close to Snow the other night. If I had actually thought rationally about all of this, I would have realized that the only outcome for these events would be disaster, but Simon Snow has a way of making me not think rationally. Lucky for me, Snow doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’ve been avoiding him all day, or maybe he has, because he’s not in our room now, even though it’s easily 8 or 9 in the evening.

 

I originally wrote the post to get to vent for a single goddamn minute about boys, so I can go back to being the perfect poster boy of the Old Families like my dad wants, without an all consuming crush on our number one enemy, the Mage’s Heir. It didn’t work, which is quite unfortunate, and I’ve been called every homophobic slur under the sun (ironic, I know), which is not unexpected. I even was so worked up after my post got so much attention that I used some magic, which I haven’t done to vent in years.

 

I’m sure that for a less pessimistic being, this may have come as a shock. Snow comes to mind, though whether it’s because he’s endlessly optimistic or unbelievably dense, I am unsure. Nevertheless, I do believe that many less aware people would believe that Watford is a place of endless understanding, especially with the openness of a certain lesbian couple on campus.

 

While I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I can not only confirm that Watford is not full of sunshine and rainbows, but also that many of the Old Families’ kids that are here, who would have the biggest issue with homosexuality, probably didn’t even realize those two were dating. After all, girls are known to be much more physically affectionate than boys, or whatnot.

 

I do suppose I should be thankful my family is on the more accepting side of Old Family politics, though I’m certain my father still expects me to keep up the family bloodline. My stepmother’s children aren’t suited for it in the slightest, so that responsibility falls on me. But I digress.

 

Nevertheless, I expected the insults, and the hatred, and the general anger that would come to me so openly only as a result of the concealment of my identity. I also expected it to mostly die down after a couple of days, which it has. But what I did not expect is the email sitting in my inbox, written to me by [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com).

 

From: [ yourlightyourburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightyourburningsun@gmail.com)

To: [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

Subject: Hi There

Dear Mr. Pitch,

I’m just like you. Well, really, the two of us are very alike. At least I think we are. You see, I also feel like I shouldn’t complain about my life. I have good friends and an amazing life here at Watford, and the people close to me think I have a bright future ahead of me. But after seeing your post, it got me thinking, and what I’ve come to realize is that I think I like men, too. Of course, I’m very new to all this, and I’m not sure if I can tell anyone. I don’t think my family would approve. So, I’ve come to ask for your advice: What do I do?

Yours,

Cinder

 

On any other occasion, I’d turn this lost child away immediately, especially since the way he addressed me is so close to the truth. But maybe because the way this kid writes reminds me of Snow, or because I can’t resist the idea of getting to do something in my life that’s entirely me, not Grimm or Pitch, but Basilton, but I decide to actually talk to him.

 

From: [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

To: [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

Subject: Re: Hi There

Dear Cinder,

Please don’t call me Mr. Pitch. It makes me sound like a character from those infernal Fifty Shades novels Normal women like so much. Call me Ebony instead.

I apologise, but I have to disagree with you on being so similar, since it sounds like you’re still figuring yourself out. That’s not a judgement, by any means, just an observation. If you’re not ready, you don’t need to tell your family right away, especially if you don’t know how they’ll take it. For reference, my dad knows, but still thinks I’m going to keep the family bloodline going.

I am, however, incredibly flattered that I’ve spurred on this revelation within you, but I must admit my curiosity is getting the better of me, so I must ask: who’s the lucky person who made everything clear?

 

Sincerely,

Ebony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, give me any criticisms you have. Don't be afraid to be mean, and let me know if there are any typos or anything, too. I always edit, but sometime things slip between the cracks.
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	5. 5

**Simon**

I don’t get to check my email until the next morning, and I’m surprised to already have a response. I am a little embarrassed that I called this guy Mr. Pitch, but I blame it on the fact I was still thinking of Baz at the time. I think Ebony suits him and his flowery writing better, anyway. I do wonder if he actually talks like that, though. I mean, I think I would have noticed it if someone at Watford talked like this.

 

I am not entirely sure why I wanted to email Ebony to begin with. When I woke up the next morning, I realized that I hadn’t really reached a conclusion, I had only thought about Baz until I literally fell asleep. But as I showered and got ready for the morning, I noticed something. Baz is very objectively handsome. He has high cheekbones and pretty grey eyes, and if he didn’t always look like he was plotting someone’s murder, he’d be very beautiful. I ponder this fact for the rest of the day, and at dinner I ask Penny what she thinks of Baz.

 

It’s only when she talks in detail about my following him around in fifth year that I realize.

 

It’s then when I decide then to contact the boy from the Tumblr post.

 

I’m not really sure what I should tell Ebony now. I want to tell him about Baz, but I’m not sure if that would give me away. It’s not a secret that Baz and I don’t get along, and while almost everyone argues with their roommate, we basically have set all of the precedents of what you can get past the anathema. I don’t want this to possibly get back to Baz, so I should be careful. Not to mention, I’ve only realized a very short while ago, so I should be a bit cautious.

 

From:  [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

To:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

Subject: Re: Hi There

 

Dear Ebony,

Well, long story short, there’s a guy I know. I’ve known him since I’ve started school here, and we’re always at each other’s throats. I kind of realized some of my fighting with him came from not really knowing myself or what I was feeling more than it was that he was being infuriating. Don’t get me wrong. He is  _ very _ infuriating. An absolute prat, really. But I also just really care about him, more than I would like to admit sometimes.

 

He’s also very pretty, which doesn’t really help the matter.

 

What about you? What’s your story?

 

Cinder

 

I put my phone away as I walk towards the dining hall. It feels weird, telling a nearly complete stranger that you might have a crush on your roommate, even though he doesn’t know the guy I have a crush on is my roommate, and even though I’m not even sure it’s a crush.

 

It also feels like I’m moving so fast. I mean, I realized I maybe liked boys a day ago, and now I’m talking to some guy who came out anonymously on Tumblr. It’s cliche, isn’t it?

 

Granted, Ebony is a very nice guy. There’s something about the way that he talks to me that makes me feel special, like he’s telling me a joke meant just for us. I feel a little warm, like there’s magic in my veins ready to be used, even though I haven’t spoken all morning, let alone cast a spell.

 

It’s easy to forget about the emails, and Ebony, throughout the day, because I have Penny. I feel bad not telling her immediately about my realization last night, because I trust her more than anything, but I just want to figure it out for myself before I tell her. And if I tell her right now, she’ll start doing all kinds of research to help me define who I am. And as much as I love Penny, this is something I need to do without her holding my hand through it. She does so much else that I’m less worried about her disappearing from my life as soon as we graduate, the promise that we’ll get a flat actually feels real for once. So I want to get to do this thing on my own. Make her proud of me like I constantly am of her.

 

**Baz**

Talking to Cinder is embarrassingly easy. It’s as if I’ve been ready to just burst out and talk about my feelings for ages, and now that a boy is giving me attention, I bat my eyelashes and spill my secrets. He’s unlike anyone else I’ve ever come out to, so full of genuine curiosity and a capacity for understanding no one else has ever given me. The closest I’ve ever gotten is from my stepmom, and she thought that a good course of action would be to get me a fireman calendar. In her defence, it might have been a good gift, if I didn’t have so many younger siblings. I’m sure she believes they were a gift to our family, too.

 

I was surprised that Cinder was willing to tell me about his crush, even though he was careful to be vague about it. I didn’t think anyone my age would trust me without my family’s legacy behind me. I am even more surprised that he asked about my past so bluntly. I’m not sure how I should respond to him. I don’t know how good he is at riddles, but there’s a bit of paranoia and cynicism in me that says I shouldn’t tell him anything that will give my identity away.

 

From:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

To:  [ yourlightmatchburnignsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburnignsun@gmail.com)

Subject: Let’s talk about me

Dear Cinder,

I don’t normally talk about my crushes, as it’s not only unbecoming to be outwardly taken by emotion, but also because anyone who’s met me will tell you I have the emotional capacity of a toaster. Since you asked so nicely, however, I’ll make an exception for you. 

 

It was my fifth year. I knew a boy who was so infuriatingly beautiful he shined like the sun. Due to extenuating circumstances, we spent a lot of time together.He was just so full of happiness and light, I couldn’t help but fall.

 

I’m quite sure he hates me, as I’ve been the cause of a few mishaps in his life (there is one in particular that he is still upset about, even though I didn’t do it on purpose), but I suppose it’s karma. The two of us can be in the “in love with our enemy” club, like Harry Potter is.

 

Sincerely,

Ebony

 

I rewrite the email over and over, trying to get the words just right. It surprises me that I get an answer barely 7 minutes later, and I fear it’s a sign of rejection. I was too pessimistic, and now Cinder wants nothing more to do with me.

 

From:  [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

To:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

Subject: Re: Let’s talk about me

i thought harry marries ginny? but they’re not enemies

 

cinder

 

I almost laugh out loud at his response. Merlin, this boy doesn’t know anything. The face of someone Cinder reminds me of flashes in my mind, but I try not to think about him. Simon Snow being my anonymous internet friend would be a twist of fate too kind to be afforded to me. 

 

Besides, I don’t have time to pine over my roommate/mortal enemy. I have to teach a hapless boy about fanfiction.

Who would be so annoying if I didn’t find him so adorable.

 

I need to be more cautious. I know I’m playing with fire here, and if I’m not careful, I’ll forget I’m flammable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been commenting thus far. I don't always have a response to give, but every one really does make an impact, so thank you.
> 
> As always, I love criticism, and please point out typos and such (except for the ones in that one email Simon sends. those are intentional.)
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Important**  
> This chapter features some links to fnafiction I didn't write. I do not claim credit for any of them, and as far as I know all of the links are to works posted by their original author. They're Drarry, so if you like that, you should definitely check them out. I will warn you all that some of them have different warnings, such as sexual content, violence, homophobia, etc., so be careful, especially since some of the fics are old enough to where not everything is tagged.
> 
> There are announcements in the notes at te bottom, so definitely read those, too.

**Simon**

It’s been almost three days since Ebony has emailed me.

 

Have I done something wrong? Was my last email so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?

 

Maybe I should have addressed the rest of his email, about his love life, but something about it was just too personal for me to respond over an email. I also have been avoiding thinking about that section of his response in general.

 

I suppose I’m jealous. I do wish that someone would talk about me the way Ebony talks about this boy he knew. Agatha and I were never like that, but I don’t fault her for it. It’s just not the way we were.

 

I’ve almost entirely given up on getting a response by now, so it surprises me to see one when I check the email out of habit after dinner. 

 

From:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

To:  [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

Subject: Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Dear Cinder,

When I saw your previous response it became abundantly clear to me that you don’t have any insight into the world of fanfiction. While I pride myself in being a man of the classics, as someone who would be classified as “deviating from the sexual norm”, I also acknowledge that the best place to find characters I can better relate to is through works of fiction made by people like me.

 

There are, of course, authors throughout the ages who were like me and fancied men, but we can have an in depth discussion of Shakespeare some other time. For now, let me show you the world which I have let myself get lost in. A world where Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter’s obvious chemistry is not ignored, and authors don’t run their mouths and ruin the worlds they’ve so precariously built.

 

[ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6560750/1/The-Lip-Lock-Jinx ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6560750/1/The-Lip-Lock-Jinx)

[ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3631179/1/Minister-Scrimgeour-Does-Not-Approve ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3631179/1/Minister-Scrimgeour-Does-Not-Approve)

[ https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101099?view_full_work=true ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101099?view_full_work=true)

[ https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171550/chapters/6887378 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171550/chapters/6887378)

[ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5401510/1/Talk-to-Me ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5401510/1/Talk-to-Me)

 

These are a few of my favorites, because the characterization is good and the tropes are done well. It took me awhile to decide which ones to send you, so my apologies for making you wait. I hope to have some engaging conversation with you and these stories once you read them.

Sincerely,

Ebony

 

Relief rushes through me as I read through the email. Ebony really is something else. I never would have expected to like his type of personality, but I do. He’s expressive, but in a way that sounds thought out. He’s cautious and and different yet so familiar, and he’s kind. I don’t know how to describe this feeling in my stomach, but I think it’s pleasant. I open the first fic and begin to read.

 

**Baz**

I was understandably concerned about my last email. Not only is it entirely out of character for me to talk about my hidden passion from my youth, but I even sent Cinder recommendations. Some of the ones I sent even get a tad explicit, which I partly wish I could take back. What what’s done is done, and I find solace in the fact that Cinder is also a teenage boy, and hopefully won’t mind.

 

My current fear is that Cinder will stumble upon a certain mess of a fic and realize where I got my name from. That would be too much for me, I think. I’m nearly certain that if that were to happen, my already barely functioning, undead heart would stop working entirely.

 

It’s been about a week and a half since Cinder last emailed me, and I’m not entirely sure how I should take it. I have no choice but to assume that the two of us are in the same year of Watford, as our workload has increased considerably in the past few days. Otherwise, I have greatly underestimated the bond between Cinder and I, or perhaps greatly overestimated his reading level. The latter is unlikely, as he has been keeping up with my own written prose well enough, and the former is something I would not like to entertain for longer than necessary.

 

I’ve noticed that lately, I’ve been nicer to Snow. Not much, because I’m practiced in not letting Snow know how I feel, but the jabs have lessened, and I rarely sneer at him for no reason anymore. Merlin, Cinder is making me go soft.

 

Talking to Cinder is really bringing out a dangerous side of me. In addition to having to work considerably harder on holding back emotion, I’ve found myself thinking about Snow more than usual. I can’t help but draw parallels between him and Cinder, and sometimes I catch myself imagining that they are one and the same. It’s not hard, as Cinder’s tone is a lot like Snow’s, and his ideals are nearly as stupidly noble. It’s so easy to let Snow’s voice be the one that reads Cinder’s emails to me, and to imagine Snow’s wild expressions in my mind in place of Cinder’s faceless frame. 

 

I know that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, because the chances of my wild fantasies being right are next to none, but some nights, when Snow is asleep, I let myself read through the emails Cinder sent and pretend that Simon Snow, the brightest boy I’ve ever met, is on the other side of the screen, and that he’s falling for me as hard as I already have for him.

 

**Simon**

It has been a long two weeks.

 

Okay, it’s been closer to a week and a half, but still. Not only have all of my classes suddenly become harder, but Ebony sent me a bunch of reading material. Even my new friend is sending me homework.

 

Granted, I’m really enjoying the homework that Ebony assigned, because it’s fun and in English. But it’s just so much. And between Penny pushing me to get all my homework done on time and Baz always being in our room, I don’t have many opportunities to read. I only finished one of the stores Ebony has sent, and I actually really like it. I feel like Ebony manages to surprise me yet feel so familiar in everything he says, and the stories he sends are the same way. I’m not sure if it’s because of my supposed hero complex, but something about that story gave me deja vu.

 

Baz and I haven’t been fighting as much lately. It’s strange. Maybe it’s because I’ve been talking to Ebony, or maybe it’s because I am actively avoiding getting too close to Baz. I definitely have a crush on him, but I don’t want to deal with it yet. Especially since I might be getting feelings for Ebony, whoever he is. (Can you have a crush on someone whose name you don’t know?) Maybe something is going on with Baz, but either way, we haven’t been as angry with each other.

 

Since I started entertaining the idea of not being straight, and talking to Ebony, I’ve set some rules for myself, the first and most important one being that I don’t read or write any emails when Baz and I are in the same room. I don’t really know how Baz will take it, and I don’t want to betray Ebony, even on accident. These emails are not my secret to share. I’ve also decided that I wouldn’t spend more than an hour a day on Ebony and Ebony related things. I’m scared that if I do more than that, Penny will figure out what’s going on, or worse, feel left out.

 

I think I can at least write an email to Ebony before dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's not Friday, but I really wanted to post this chapter. But if I get too busy this weekend, there may not be an update on Friday this week.
> 
> If you don't follow me on Tumblr ( https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chip-off-the-writers-block ), I highly recommend it, because I was debating whether I should do an extra chapter of this story this week, or start another one that I've been working on for a while, and I wanted input from you all. The problem is, AO3 doesn't really have a method for me to reach you all without posting a new chapter, and only a couple of you (if any) follow me on Tumblr. Of course, you can also use it to look at other things I post, or otherwise get to know me, but I won't pressure you either way. If you don't have/don't use Tumblr, leave a comment here/message me on wattpad/tumblr about what social media you think would be better.
> 
> Anyway, I'll stop blabbering now, and I do genuinely feel bad about asking you guys to follow me like this, but I do genuinely want your input.
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	7. 7

**Simon**

The next couple weeks fly by in a blur. Classes have gotten much harder, and people have stopped caring about the tumblr post from the beginning of school and have moved on to the next thing. Which apparently is gossiping about why Baz and I haven’t been fighting. To some extent, I understand the buzz. It’s been over a month, and we’ve had zero major incidents. We’ve barely even had minor incidents. Penny is concerned, but also a little happy. She thinks she’s hiding it well, but I know she’s excited that Baz and I aren’t fighting anymore, and even more excited that I haven’t complained about his evilness since school started. 

 

And it’s been really nice. I sometimes can work in our room without going off and making a scene, and yesterday I caught him  _ smiling  _ at me. He thinks I didn’t notice, so I haven’t said anything. It has not helped my crush on him go away (Baz is always pretty, but when he smiles, my heart does backflips), which is infinitely more confusing with Ebony in the mix. I think I have to tell Penny about this soon,before it gets out of hand.

 

I am currently doing homework on my bed, which really means I have my paper and textbooks surrounding me, and I’m twirling my pen around. On one of the pages is a list of things I know about Ebony, but that’s not important right now.

 

Baz was originally doing work, but is now taking a break, walking around our room and cleaning up papers or something like that. I’m not looking at him, but I can hear paper rustling and things being moved along the wood of his desk. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us have really been speaking all day, which I don’t understand. Granted, we’ve been very amicable lately, but even at our best we’re usually at each other’s throats by now. 

 

I startle myself with the newly found double entendre of that statement. Or maybe it’s triple entendre. The first is the two of us fighting, the second is snogging, and the third is Baz being a vampire and draining my blood. Yes, I think that’s it.

 

I suddenly realize the room has gone quiet, and I sit up to see Baz staring at me, a book in his hand he hasn’t quite set down. He must have started because I jolted when I thought about us snogging, and now I’m kind of warm. Not magic warm. The normal kind you get when people make fun of you. I should probably try to say something light and casual.

 

“So, Agatha broke up with me a while ago.” 

 

Or not.

 

Baz raises his eyebrow at me, and puts down whatever textbook he was rearranging before.

 

“I see,” he says curtly. “And why do I care, Snow?”

 

“Well, you seem to like her, and she definitely seems to like you,” Merlin, I have no idea where I’m going with this. “So if you fancy her, Baz, now is your chance.”

 

Baz looks at me for a long time, the look on his face like the one he usually has when he’s plotting to kill me, but a hundred times worse. Then, slowly, his lip curls into a sneer.

 

“Thank you so much for your blessing, oh Chosen One, but I’m not interested in your sloppy seconds.”

 

I freeze, because I’ve never heard him sound so cruel, and I regret everything I said. The words aren’t any worse than other things he’s said, but the intent is so much worse. It strikes me that he’s been holding back, padding his words slightly while I’ve been filled with anger. But it’s too late to take it back. Too late to fix the delicate truce I’ve just slammed into the ground. With a flick of his wrist, our room is filled with darkness, and I hear a soft thump as Baz falls into bed.

 

Silence fills the room.

 

**Baz**

This is, as the Normal teens say, why we can’t have nice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for this chapter, so... Sorry.
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-wriets-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	8. 8

To:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

From:  [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

Subject: Elocution

 

Ebony,

I am definitely sending you this email instead of doing my elocution homework. My friend is giving me glares over her book, but it’s okay. I’m pants at elocution, anyway. I’m not very good at getting all the hidden meanings in a word or phrase. My friend says that I always take things at face value, and that’s why I’m not good at it, but I don’t really get why words need to have so many layers, anyway.

 

Cinder

 

To : [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

From: [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

Subject: Re:Elocution

 

Cinder,

I wish I could say I related to your experience in elocution, but I really don’t. I love the subtleties of Shakespearean sonnets and Dickinson's poetry. One day, I’ll teach you to appreciate the art of elocution. Otherwise, we can’t be friends anymore.

 

Ebony

 

To:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

From:  [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

Subject: Re:Elocution

 

You like elocution? That doesn’t really surprise me. From your emails, you seem like someone who really likes words. In a good way, of course. But I want to know more about you in general, like what kind of food you like, and what kind of music you listen to. That sort of thing. Feel free to leave out anything too personal, of course.

 

Cinder

 

To : [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

From: [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

Subject: Let’s get personal

 

My Dearest Cinder,

 

I’ll divulge as much as I believe I can without you having too much to work with in finding out who I am. I’m not exactly ready for a cute boy showing up at my door with little to no notice, and you are, from what I gather, too impulsive to do anything but that exact thing.

 

For starters, I love the violin. I play, so much of my music tastes revolve around the criteria of having a good violin component to it. I like elocution the best, but Greek is also one of my favorite courses at Watford. I have many younger siblings, who I do adore (but I would rather die than let them know that, the little cretins). I enjoy food, but it’s not easy for me to narrow down a specific favorite.

 

Before you tell me anything, let me try to guess a bit about you: I assume from your email that you like pop, you probably enjoy classes that require little thinking, and I’m certain you have a sweet tooth. I don’t have any inklings about your family, but other than that, I’m confident.

 

How did I do?

 

Fondly,

Ebony

 

To:  [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

From:  [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

Subject: Re:Let’s get personal

 

Dear Ebony,

I’d love to hear you play violin sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful.

 

Am I really that easy to read? I love sweets (cook Pritchard’s sour cherry scones are my favorite). I don’t listen to much music, but Normal pop is fun, and I can’t stand the classes you like. 

 

My family is nothing to write home about, so I won’t really go into that. I have one close friend, and I absolutely adore her. Her family is nice, and they seem to like me fine. They always invite me over for holiday, but I’ve never gone. Not that I stay with my family, either. We don’t really celebrate anything. But maybe I’ll go this year. I used to go to my girlfriend’s house, but now that we’re not dating anymore, I don’t think I’m still invited.

 

Love,

Cinder

 

To : [ yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com ](mailto:yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com)

From: [ pitchblackherb128@gmail.com ](mailto:pitchblackherb128@gmail.com)

Subject: Christmas

Dear Cinder,

 

My family celebrates Christmas every year. If we ever meet, you’re most certainly invited. My stepmother would be thrilled, I’m certain, and my father will warm up to you.

 

Love,

Ebony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, but here it is. I will probably post twice today, regardless.
> 
> As always, feedback is great, especially criticism, and don't be afraid of being mean.
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	9. 9

**Baz**

I make it a point not to be meaner to Snow for the next few days, glaring at him at every chance and being more cruel than before when he screws up catastrophically. It happens more often than usual, I think, because he’s distracted by something.

 

Lucky him. What I wouldn’t give to be in his place.

 

I do, admittedly, feel a bit guilty. I know it’s unfair to lash out at Snow. Especially since I know he was trying to help. And it was also in poor form to say those things about Wellbelove. I can almost  _ hear  _ aunt Fiona chewing me out for that. But it’s also not fair to be hopelessly in love with your mortal enemy. The one destined to be your undoing. I let myself talk to Cinder, even though I know that his rambling and naive prose is what tricked me, for just a moment, into thinking that Snow could ever love me back.

 

Cinder is, in many ways, a lot like Simon Snow. His aforementioned writing style sounds like someone just committing a conversation to ink, easy to read but ultimately aimless. He lets his words lead him and not the other way around. He’s stupidly noble, with a hero complex the size of a kraken. But Snow is straight and Snow doesn’t have a crush on his enemy. And I certainly don’t deserve to have the happiness that would come with Cinder being Snow.

 

On the other hand, Cinder is so magically confusing to me. For so long, I’ve dealt with my unrequited feelings for Snow, and had accepted a life of stupid pining. But Cinder is fun and sweet and so similar to Snow in so many ways that talking to him gives me a dangerous amount of hope.

 

So I distract myself from the broken feeling in my chest and I entertain Cinder, answering dumb questions about my family and my taste in books and my favorite subject in school (Aleister Crowley, are we in primary school? What are these questions), and send back the questions with ease. For a couple of days, I ignore Snow and just drown myself in my tentative but ever strengthening friendship with Cinder.

 

Then, everything falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but I hope that the fact that I also posted the emails only chapter makes up for it.  
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	10. Chapter 10

**The Mage**

I discovered them purely on accident. **  
**

Simon has been a little off lately, from what I can observe. I’ve tried to check in on him once or twice, but every time, he brushed me off, as if there were somewhere else he’d rather be. He seems distracted, and barely showed any enthusiasm when I told him of an upcoming project I had for him. So, like any good father trying to bring the world’s most powerful mage to light would, I went and snooped around Simon’s private life.

I started by visiting his and the Pitch kid’s room while they were at classes. Simon’s roommate’s smartphone is laying on his bed, and shows he had an email from someone calling themselves Cinder. Frivolous. Hidden in Simon’s desk, next to a page titled “thinks I know about Ebony” is a mobile charger, which is strange because I thought Simon was consorting with that Wellbelove girl, and he doesn’t have a mobile.

The latter is the more concerning note, but since Simon seemed to have his mobile with him, I decided to check the Pitch boy’s phone for good measure. After multiple attempts proved that the mobile charger was not a spare one of Pitch’s, as it didn’t fit, I moved on to looking through the phone’s contents. After all, Simon was always telling me that boy is evil, and I believe that it’s time I took his words to heart. He may be on to something.

I very carefully cast “ **open sesame** ” on the phone to get it past the lock screen, and skim through the contents of the boy’s mobile. At first, I think I’ve hit a dead end, when suddenly, I notice something.

The emails on the Pitch boy’s phone are signed as “Ebony”, the same name as on the notes in Simon’s desk. Oh, David. You are a genius.

I decide to confiscate the cellphone for the greater good, and storm out of the boys’ shared room.

So maybe I lied about finding it ‘by accident’, but nevertheless, I will not stand for the Old Families ruining my perfect weapon with their plot.

I will put an end to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, but the next one is much longer, so I'm still polishing it up. I'll likely post another one throughout the weekend.   
> In other news, November is National Novel Writing Month, and I'm trying to decide what I'm doing. I made a post about it on Tumblr. Please check it out (spoiler alert: I'm not writing a novel this month. I might write more of this).   
> https://chip-off-the-writers-block.tumblr.com/post/179656943602/its-national-novel-writing-month-and-i-totally  
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


	11. 11

**Baz**

When I am called up to the Mage’s office, I am immediately suspicious. I don’t understand why I am being called into his office, and based on the fact that he’s sitting on his desk when I get there, it’s not for a legitimate reason.

 

His legs are crossed, and although he normally looks like a ridiculous Robin Hood (the animated Disney fox one), his posture and grin remind me of the Cheshire Cat.

 

“Hello, Tyrannus.” his grin turns my stomach. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

 

I summon all of the Grimm and Pitch inside me to look at unimpressed and bored as possible as I sit down and look the Mage directly in the eye in my mother’s old office.

 

“Why did you call me in here?” Stay calm, Basilton. Do not show interest, do not be bothered by the fact he repeatedly uses the wrong name. Maintain eye contact.

 

The Mage is holding something in his atrocious green gloved hand, and I am filled with anger when I realize it’s my mobile.

 

“That belongs to me,” I force my voice to stay calm, even though the Mage lights up as if I’ve confessed to a crime. “I don’t believe it’s very legal of you to confiscate my belongings for no reason.”

 

“Tsk, tsk, Tyrannus,” the Mage looks all too gleeful. “I can with probable cause, and since Simon, my heir, is always talking about how you’re a villain, I decided to investigate for myself.”

 

I hold off a flinch when the Mage mentions Simon. We both know, of course, that we’re on opposite sides of the war, but the way the Mage talks about Simon, as if he were just a tool, sickens me.

 

“Well, unless you found something illegal, I believe you must give me my mobile back,” I take in how much the Mage truly looks like a discount Robin hood in his getup, because I’m sure I’ve won. I haven’t even broken any rules.

 

“Actually, Tyrannus, I believe I will be holding on to this for a while longer,” and now we’re back to Cheshire cat. “After all, I did find something very interesting on this device.”

 

I scoff.

 

“You have nothing.”

 

The Mage leans in much closer than I’m comfortable with.

 

“I know you’ve been stringing my Simon along with those emails. I know all about your little Old Family Scheme”

 

What little blood I have in my system runs cold, but I keep a blank face. There is no scheme, but I’m not sure if it’s in my favor for him to know that.

 

“I have no idea who Cinder is,” this is all I have, calling his bluff. But he can’t know that.

 

His face lights up even more when I say that. I feel sick.

 

“Ah, but I do. You see Tyrannus-”

 

“Basilton,” I correct him.

 

“Basilton, yes. You see, I know who Cinder is, because Simon trusts me. And I know he’s going to be crushed when he finds out it’s you. Not to mention, if you didn’t know Cinder was my precious heir, the Old Families didn’t put you up to this. And I don’t think they’d appreciate it if word gets out that their poster boy was doing this little dance, now, would they?”

 

It upsets me to know that his half baked way of jumping to conclusions has led him to the truth.

 

“So what do you want?” I grit my teeth to keep my fangs from popping out in anger.

 

“It’s really nothing big at all,” the Mage flips his hand around as he speaks. “I just need you to talk some sense into your aunt. She, quite frankly, has been on the warpath or whatever, and while we were able to turn a blind eye for a while due to her legacy, it’s simply getting out of hand. I wouldn’t want to have to use force and upset your family any more.”

 

I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him. But Simon does, so that has to mean something. I put on a dazzlingly fake smile, but the Mage doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Fine. Now, give me my phone back.”

 

The Mage clicks his tongue in this annoying way.

 

“I don’t think so, Basilton,” he says, pretending to sounds sorry. “I believe I have to hold onto it until you fulfil your end of the bargain. After all, it’s clear I shouldn’t trust you.”

 

“And how do you suppose I get in contact with my aunt without a mobile?” I am actively pushing down anger now, barely keeping it at bay.

 

“Not my problem,” comes the all too infuriating reply. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re a bright boy.”

 

I stand and walk out of the room as calmly as I can manage, face blank and void of emotion. But as soon as I leave, I feel the facade crumbling. Anger lights up my face and I let my gait be slightly heavier than usual. Needless to say, I am livid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as of right now, this chapter is an extra one that I did for NaNoWriMo (This fic is definitely not a novel, but I don't have time to fully participate this year), but I also really want to get to do other things outside of this fic, so if you have a preference to what you want me to do, send me something through Tumblr or Wattpad.
> 
> Find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad:@chipoff-writersblock


	12. 12

**Baz**

I’m fuming as I walk, which almost never happens.

It’s obvious I don’t have a choice but to follow the Mage’s ridiculous whims, but it’s obvious to me that I’m set up to fail. I don’t have very long before my absence breaks Cinder’s (Simon’s) heart. I ignore the flutter of hope in my chest that The Mage isn’t manipulating me by telling me Simon is Cinder when he isn’t, but it’s not as if I can take that chance in calling his bluff.

The first problem I have is that I’ll need a mobile. I can’t scare a first year for one without getting in trouble, which I can’t afford with the Mage right now, and it’s not as if I can ask Dev or Niall for one. I might be able to ask the Wellbelove girl, since Simon insists she fancies me, but she’s such a dull goody two shoes that I can guarantee that she will immediately try to tell the Mage or the Coven that I’m up to something.

My hands are shaking as I run them through my hair for the umpteenth time today. I’m running out of options. But what can I do?

**Simon**

I’m talking to Penny when Baz bursts into our room. I had invited her up to talk after class, because Baz had been called up to talk to the Mage and we would have the room to ourselves. I told her everything, about Ebony and Baz and my new label (I had found one two days ago, with Ebony’s help. Bisexual. I love it).

Penny was patient in listening to me, and at the end she gave me a big hug and thanked me for telling her. And when we were done hugging, she asked me all sorts of questions about Baz.  Crowley, it was embarrassing. (I didn’t tell her about the fight, because I know she’d get so worked up about it.) Worst of all, in the middle of the conversation, Baz rushes into the room.

I’m fairly certain Baz doesn’t hear any of Penny’s prodding or anything when he rushes in, but that’s probably because he seems very distracted.

He’s positively fuming, and Penny actually gets ready to cast, just in case. And she is usually the logical one. I leap up, and I immediately regret it, now torn between getting into a battle stance and hugging him. He looks awful. Paler than usual, and there’s just this brokenness in his eyes.

He looks at me, then Penny, then back at me. He swallows, and looks between us again. His jaw is set, and I’ve never seen him so visibly angry.

“Bunce, may I talk to Simon alone for a minute?” His words are strangled, barely squeezing past his teeth.

Penny looks at me, and she looks unsure, which never happens. Baz called me Simon. He never calls me Simon. It’s always Snow. It must be serious, then. I think Penny senses that, too, but wants me to give her the go.

I nod at her slowly. Today is a day for the impossible, it seems. So I’m going to do my part and trust him.

“Penny will wait outside for a minute, but on one condition. She’s not supposed to be up here, so if she thinks she’s going to get caught, or if she thinks I’m in trouble, she’ll come back in on her own.”

“Fine.”

Baz looks at Penny as she leaves, and somehow, I think the two of them reach a silent understanding. Which is very impressive. Even after living with Baz all this time, I can never guess what he thinks, let alone agree on something without words. I’m a little jealous. Penny flicks her bright purple hair as she walks past, making sure that the door clicks shut audibly behind her. Baz and I watch her as she leaves.

Once Penny is gone, Bax turns back to me, the expression on his face the same as when he first stormed in. For a moment, I think he’s going to kill me.

And then he crumbles, and it’s so much worse.

“Simon, you have to help me. Please.”

Baz looks frantic, and I’m completely lost. I’ve never seen him so broken. I never even thought it was possible. It’s the exact opposite of the malice I saw before, and I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so they hover in the air between us, and my feet must be carrying me towards him, because he’s getting bigger with each passing moment. Closer.

Soon, I’m standing in front of him, and my hands feel cool. I look down, and I’ve grabbed his hands at some point. I meet his eyes, and for a split second, I let myself drink in the impossible grey of his eyes. They look like the eye of a storm, and right now, the rest of him is the hurricane.

“Baz,” I say slowly, pulling us both out of our stupor. “I need you to breathe. And when you’re ready, tell me what I can do to help you. I don’t need you to tell me everything, but I need to know enough to help you, okay?”

Baz stares at me, with wide eyes and mouth agape. His chest is heaving as he focuses on breathing slow, deep breaths, and I realize what a strange scene this all is.

I’m sure Baz believes he’s fallen into another world, one where I am capable of acting like a grown up, but the truth is Penny and Agatha taught me a lot of coping mechanisms because they thought Normal orphanages must be traumatizing. I would argue that the years of being hunted by magickal creatures is worse, but they were useful, so I won’t complain.

Baz calms down at a good, steady pace, his eyes never leaving my face. He still looks a bit surprised, with his lips parted slightly and his hair windswept, and I despite myself I feel a smile twitching on my lips. I gently let go of Baz’s hand and bring it up to his cheek slowly, not even sure if this is the right thing to do. He doesn’t stop me.

“Ready?” I keep my voice low. Soft. Baz nods.

“I need to borrow your mobile,” his voice is so deep when he’s calm. “I need to contact someone, and mine won’t do. I can’t tell you much, but I can tell you that if I don’t call my aunt and get to her flat fast, the person who’s making me do this will hurt someone I really care about. Please, Snow.”

“Simon,” I correct him. Baz seems confused, so I pull away. “You called me Simon before. I don’t see why you should stop now.”

Today must be the day the world ends, because I, Simon Snow, have witnessed the the most impossible thing in all of history. Basilton Grimm-Pitch is laughing. And it’s beautiful. His shoulders are shaking and his eyes are twinkling, and it strikes me for the first time that I may not be in love with him, but I definitely could in the future.

“Simon Snow, you never cease to amaze me,” Baz is obviously making fun of me, as he says this in between laughs and while shaking his head.

Not for the first time, Baz makes me think of Ebony, and that makes me feel guilty. I know I shouldn’t let my heart be split like this, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to think about it just yet, so I pull away from baz and walk over to my bed to grab my mobile, when I turn back around, Baz’s smile has faded, but as I brandish my mobile for him, I notice that it lingers around his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says with sincerity.

My heart is beating very loud, and it feels like it’s trying to jump out my throat and tell Baz every confusing thing in my head by itself. I can’t help but smile, which I hope makes it less weird that I’m moving towards the door.

“I, uh, want to let you make this call in private, so I’ll, um, go into the hall with Penny for a bit. We’ll go to dinner. So, uh, yeah.”

I sound like an idiot. I know I sound like an idiot. Baz knows I sound like an idiot, too, but I scramble out before I can see his reaction. Penny gives me a funny look, but I just complain to her how hungry I am until she rolls her eyes and drags me downstairs.

When I return that night, our room is empty and Baz’s bag is gone. My phone sits on my pillow, and a hollow feeling eats at my chest.


	13. 13

**Fiona**   


When the veil started to open, I did absolutely nothing. I wasn’t expecting anyone to Visit, and I certainly didn’t think I’d have to do anything if someone did. I think that’s what caught me off guard about the numpties. They’re dull creatures, and relied entirely on the element of surprise in order to try to capture me. It probably would have worked, too, if I were anyone other than me, and if I hadn’t been around Ebb and Nico through all of school. It took me much too long to fight them off. Each one of them is hardly a challenge to fight, but they overwhelmed me with sheer numbers. Which, admittedly, was a bit embarrassing. Worst of all, when I was done I felt like I needed to sleep for a few weeks before everything would feel right again.

 

But then Natasha came to see me, because Natasha never wanted to be predictable, and told me to avenge her death. And how could I sleep for weeks when I knew I would have to pass up a chance to do something that exciting?

 

Natasha was very blunt when she came to see me. She told me she wanted to go see Basilton, but was too afraid of putting him in danger, so she settled for me instead. Because what better way to contact your sister from beyond the grave than to remind her you were her second choice? Especially when avenging her requires talking to Nico. If she had run off and told Baz, he would have been entirely lost. He wouldn’t even know who Nico was, or where to start in finding him. Not that I believe that my sister didn’t know what she’s doing, of course.

 

Though, to be honest, I had some problems finding him, too. In my defence, tracking spells are absolute pants at finding vampires. Leading spell analysts think it’s because they’re often not fully themselves, especially if they feed on humans. All that extra blood that isn’t theirs waters down their magical “scent”. So it’s taken a few weeks of slinking around vampire places and trying to find him. And not only have I not had any luck so far, now I have another vampire on my tail: my nephew.

 

I love my Basilton, I really do, but I’m not sure my sister would approve of me also babysitting her son while I do all of the unsavory things I do when I interrogate people I find. But when I heard him over the mobile, I couldn’t refuse.

 

Basilton has always been strong, like Natasha, and even as a child I rarely saw him be anything other than prim and proper, especially after he calmed down from the accident. But when he called me today, he sounded broken. I didn’t ask why he didn’t call me with his mobile, and he didn’t say. All he said is that he needed to see me, and I, like a bad aunt, gave him what he wanted.

 

Which is why I’m currently sitting in my flat and having a cup of tea with my nephew, who is currently staring at me like a kicked puppy (or as close to that as a Pitch can manage) instead of slinking around a vampire bar looking for Nicodemus.

 

“C’mon, Basilton, out with it,” my words are harsh, I know, but my tone is clear. “How does your favorite aunt have to save the day this time?”

 

“I need you to stop whatever it is you’re doing that’s causing a scene,” Basilton’s voice is quiet, and for a moment I think I’ve misheard him.

 

**Baz**

Crowley, I knew this wasn’t going to go well.

 

Aunt Fiona is looking at me with a venomous grin and cold eyes. Fake laughter is bubbling past her tight lips, and it startles me for a moment. It’s easy to forget that my rebellious and badass aunt has the same venom in her that I have, and sometimes I forget entirely that it’s a family trait. She drums her fingers on the table, and I know immediately that there’s going to be a fight.

 

“Now, Basilton,” she begins, obviously preparing to stand her ground. “I believe I misheard you. For my nephew would never call what I do a ‘scene’, as you so delicately put it, and he absolutely would not doubt my actions any my intentions.”

 

“Please, Fiona,” I pointedly leave out the title ‘aunt’ for now. “I only want you to stay safe. The Mage is entirely too ready to storm your place and whisk you off, and I’d rather like to keep you from an unfair trial.”

 

Fiona slams her hands down on the table, rattling the teacups and failing to startle me. She pushes herself up and begins to walk around the kitchen, magic sizzling and arms waving about. She knows I’m hiding something, and I already know I won’t make it out of this flat without telling her.

 

“I cannot believe-”

 

“Fiona.”

 

She’s stomping, which is quite unlike her.

 

“-that my own flesh and blood-”

 

“Aunt Fi.”

 

I quite think she’s ignoring me on purpose.

 

“-would sell me out-”

 

Something in the kitchen makes an unsafe sounding rattling. I’m not sure what.

 

“-to that no good-”

 

“Aunt Fiona!”

 

“-son of a-”

 

“AUNT FIONA!”

 

“Why are you even doing this?!” We scream at one another in perfect unison. Typical.

 

I should be grateful that she stops. Her chest is heaving a bit. I’ve stopped, too, but only because we’ve reached an impasse. Crowley, I really am her nephew. We said the same thing and everything. How cliche.

 

“Look, Aunt Fi,” I interject before she can gather her wits. “I am not selling out to the Mage. That knock off Peter Pan stole my phone, rifled through it unlawfully, and is now holding it hostage until I get you to stop whatever it is you’re doing, okay?”

 

“Oh, Basilton, why does a silly mobile matter?” Aunt Fiona is obviously perplexed. “We can just get you a new one.”

 

“I’ve, um, kind of been talking to a boy,” Merlin, I don’t think I’ve been this embarrassed, ever. “And he doesn’t know who I am, but I figured out who he was. We’ve been emailing, and I really like him. If I just up and get a new mobile, the Mage will still have access to my account, and I’ll be handing him more ammunition on a silver platter. The Mage is prepared to share what he’s told me with the entire Magickal world, and I can’t do that to Simon, okay? So please, can you please just stop this so I can get my mobile back?”

 

“I’m so sorry, Basilton, but I can’t,” Fiona looks genuinely sorry. “I can’t just stop trying to solve your mother’s murder like this.”

 

I groan, and let my face meet the table with the clink of teaware.

 

Oh, for the love of Merlin, it just had to be that, didn’t it?


	14. 14

**Baz**

Fiona fills me in about my mother and the veil, about her death being a murder and not an accident. The whole time, I stand there, gaping like some idiot fish, for what I assume is several minutes. Fiona looks much too smug for my liking, and I know it’s because she thinks she’s won.

My brain is spinning in circles, and I let it. I’m sure there’s a solution somewhere. The Mage has my mobile, and is willing to scare off Simon by making the emails public. I don’t want Simon to be scared off, and I can’t just get another mobile, because the Mage will see everything, and might take action. I can’t contact Simon separately, because then he’ll know I’m Ebony, and possibly be scared off. So I need my mobile back. But the Mage won’t give it back, because he wants Fiona to stop ‘rampaging’, and Fiona can’t stop what she’s doing because she’s investigating my mother’s murder-

“Crowley, Basilton, close your mouth before you catch flies,” Fiona says not gently, but lovingly. “Keep that up and you’ll be worse than the numpties that attacked me.”

My brain comes to a halt so suddenly, I half believe it’s audible.

“You were attacked by numpties?” I raise my brow questioningly, but Fiona only shrugs.

“I’m sure someone sent them, because they aren’t bright enough to scheme on their own. I haven’t bothered to figure out who, because they haven’t sent anyone else since, and tracking down whoever attacked me would be wasting time I could be using to avenge my sister.”

Anyone you talk to who knew my mom and my aunt will tell you that my mom was the mastermind, and aunt Fiona her most powerful ally. They were unstoppable together. But my aunt isn’t a schemer like my mother was. Like I am. And I know that if there’s any amount of scheming going on here, these events are all connected.

“Why haven’t you been able to find Nicodemus?” I ask to fill in some gaps before I finish putting together what I assume is Fiona’s plan.

Fiona shrugs.

“I assume he heard about the numpty attack and made himself scarce, even to me.”

“Why would that matter to him?” I press, and I see the light of realization in her eyes.

“Because the person who hired them to attack me is the same person who hired the vampires to murder Natasha,” her voice comes out fast and breathless, and I nod.

“Now, we need to start scheming about how we’re going to do this, or the Mage will catch wind that I’m helping you instead of stopping you,” it sounds so matter-of-fact, now that I’m in the plotting phase. Snow may be entirely dense, but he is right about one thing: I love to plot. Especially if I’m up against someone who knows how to plot back.

 

**Simon**

Days crawl by, and no matter how much I beg and plead, I cannot make them inch past any faster. Ebony has suddenly stopped talking to me, and Baz has disappeared off the face of the earth. Penny has been trying to stop me from sulking, but I can’t help it. In the span of a few hours I’ve lost both boys that I fancy, right after I actually think I understand who I am.

The only bright side to all of this is that the Mage is keeping me busy. Penny thinks it’s a little weird, because he hasn’t talked to me much all semester. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I think she’s right. He wants to work with me on spellwork, to get me ready to fight the Humdrum. It’s hard, because I have no clue how to fight the Humdrum, and I think The Mage’s patience with me is wearing thin. Penny seemed visibly upset when I told her that, and I think she’s doing some snooping now (of course, her mother has been on the fence about The Mage for a while, so I think that’s part of it, too).

Baz left on a Tuesday. It’s Friday now, and I’m still sulking. Ebony last emailed me on Monday night, and I can’t help but notice again that it’s so similar to when Baz left. I tell Penny that, and she stares at me for a long while before slowly saying it could be a coincidence. I know she’s right, but pretending Baz is Ebony makes me worry about Ebony less. I still can’t help but wonder if something terrible has happened to him.

**Baz**

I don’t let myself think of Simon or Cinder for longer than necessary while I plot. In fact, the first thing I do once Fiona and I are on the same page is delete that blasted email that got me into this mess on the first place. I doubt Simon will notice, but it makes me feel better, regardless.

The plan takes the better part of two days to formulate.

The Mage never gave me a way to contact him to let him know I’ve gotten my aunt to stop, so she just has to do things that the Mage’s eyes and ears would think are not suspicious while we get in contact with Nicodemus. I should go, because I will be able to sniff the place out, as well as fit in (and draw attention from anyone I take with me, really), but if someone recognizes me, it might get back to the Mage and make him suspicious, and he in turn he might release the emails. Which means I need a way to either neutralize the situation by bringing someone the Mage’s inner circle and the Coven trust, or make the Mage believe his threats are empty.

This is where the plan began to fall apart: Simon Snow. It makes the most sense to take Snow with me, but I doubt he’ll trust me enough to follow my plan, especially one that deliberately goes behind the Mage’s back. But I don’t have time to make him trust me, and for once in my life, the thought of lying to Simon turns my stomach.

Which is why we’re not calling Simon. We’re calling Penelope Bunce. She’s much more analytical than Simon, and we can bank on Simon wanting to join her in her fight out of the goodness of his heart. Thank Magic for Simon Snow’s hero complex.

Of course, I don’t have Bunce’s phone number. But I do have Wellbelove’s. It’s written on a slip of paper and had been shoved into my bookbag ages ago. I can text her asking for Bunce’s mobile number to ask for some information for our Politikal Science class (a course Wellbelove doesn’t take, and a course Simon is absolute pants at), and then we can begin.

Time is of the essence here, because he Mage will sure notice his little Magelings gone if they miss classes, so this plan must be carried to fruition before the weekend is over.

And with that, the final step clicks into place. Let’s begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Thanksgiving, for anyone who celebrates it!
> 
> First off, sorry for posting a bit later in the day than usual.
> 
> Secondly, I've been working on a few other stories recently, and I'd love it if you would all check them out! I have one that's a Mystic Messenger fanfic series that I'm pretty proud of thus far. I don't recommend it if you plan on playing the game/haven't finished it but want to, but I'm trying to make prior knowledge of the game not necessary to enjoy it. I also have an original story that I'm writing for a contest on Wattpad. It's not up, yet, but if you're interested in a wlw fantasy-esque short story, follow me on Wattpad and Tumblr so you can read it when I finish it!
> 
> And finally, I'd love it if you would all give me inpur on whether or not I should participate in a Carry On Big Bang event this year. I think it might be fun, but I don't want it to slow down my pacing in the other things I'm doing.


	15. 15

**Fiona**

The little bugger’s plan actually worked. Sister dear, he really does take after you. The “Agatha” girl who gave him her number gave him the one he needed with no question, and when Baz began to go in great detail about his plot, the girl with the purple hair became curious and agreed to come over to talk about it. Then the Chosen one heard Penny and insisted he come along, and now they’re standing around in my living room.

My nephew is really something else.

**Penelope**

Baz’s plot is very thorough, and honestly, I’m impressed. Simon would be, too, if he were actually paying attention to what Baz is saying instead of looking at him with doe eyes like he is. There is one little thing I’d like to tweak, though.

“Without Fiona there with you, how will you ensure Nicodemus will tell you the truth?”

Baz looks at me with surprise. It’s obvious he thought his plan was foolproof, but he obviously doesn’t deal with fools enough (strange, since I was sure Dev and Niall have no substance between their ears, but I digress). Baz clears his throat.

“Um, well, yes. Very pertinent observation, Bunce. Obviously,I’ll just need to convince him that I’m Fiona’s nephew, and he’ll be honest with me.”

“And if he tries to lie to you anyway?” I argue back. “He might try to give you false information to protect you.”

“Bluff.”

Baz and I both turn to Simon. His voice is quiet, and it’s unexpected.

“When he tells you information, you tell him that you got information before that was leading somewhere else,” Simon continues. “Insult his sources and whatnot. His reaction will tell you whether or not he told the truth.”

“That could work,” Baz’s lips twitch in what I assume is a smile. It’s strange, but Simon seems pretty taken by the gesture. “Brilliant work, Snow.”

Simon laughs, taking all of us by surprise.

“Of course you would say so,” Simon says between huffs of laughter. “I got the idea because you do it to me all the time.”

It makes sense, of course. Simon and Baz have always been two sides of the same coin, so it’s natural that Simon would find the most Baz way to finish his plan.

As Baz nods in amusement, however, something clicks in my head. Merlin, I’m going to have to go to Baz’s football games forever after this weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. I thought about adding the next scene to it, but it's kind of too much of a jump.
> 
> Secondly, It's been a really hectic week, but I did manage to write for one of the prompts on the Carry on Countdown (a day late, but still). It's not up on Ao3 yet, but that's because I'm thinking about expanding it before putting it here. Check it out on my Tumblr and let me know what you think! ( https://chip-off-the-writers-block.tumblr.com/post/180655811567/carry-on-countdown-day-5-mythology ). I'm also posting a short story that's all original later today on Wattpad, and it'd mean a lot to me if you checked that out, too!
> 
> Also, I just wanted to thank you guys so much for all your support on Simon Snow Vs. We're about at the halfway mark, and I'm really grateful for you all.


	16. 16

**Simon**   


Vampire dens are less scary than you’d think.

 

First of all, they’re basically just bars that serve a little more than alcohol. The lights are dim, but every bar is, and there is a flight of ominous looking stairs in the back hat lead to a pit of darkness below, but otherwise it’s just a bar. The people there aren’t as beautiful or as grotesque as Normal movies say, either (except for Baz, but I think he’s an exception).

 

They don’t really look like vampires. They look like any other people, but with grey skin.

 

They stare at us, when we walk in. At first, I think it’s because Baz has his arm wrapped around my waist. Penny said it would be less strange for me to be in a vampire den if it looked like Baz and I are there together. Like, together together. But as I look back at the vampires, I realize they’re not looking at us. They’re looking at me.

 

“Why are they staring?” I ask, keeping my voice as quiet as I think I can be with Baz still understanding.

 

“Perhaps they recognize you,” Baz replies cooly under his breath. “Or perhaps they are envious that you have something they lost long ago: life.”   
  


“It’s definitely not that. You’re alive.”

 

Baz huffs in a way I think is laugh.

 

“I am most certainly not alive. I’m simply not dead.”

 

“That’s the same thing,” I say, looking up at him with a pout.

 

Something shines in Baz’s eyes, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say it’s sadness.

 

“It’s not,” Baz rolls his eyes, and the look is gone. His expression should not be as beautiful as it is. “Now, stop talking. I see him.”

 

I realize now that the entire time I’ve been arguing with Baz, he’s led me down a flight of stairs. I’m remarkably embarrassed that I didn’t notice, but also remarkably impressed that we both got down okay.

 

Baz tilts his head subtly towards a man, with the grace of a dragon. And I follow his gaze, with what I can only assume is the grace of a kraken. (Judging by the small huff I hear from Baz, I must not be far off). He has blond, slicked back hair and grey skin, like everyone else here. He looks like Ebb, but rougher, and wearing a cheap suit. At least, I think it looks cheap, but I know pants about suits, or any other clothes, for that matter.

 

Baz gently tugs my arm, and he pulls us both towards Nicodemus. The dragon and the krakken. I only hope we’re as menacing as them, too.

 

Nicodemus looks at us as we walk over, torn between caution and curiosity.

 

“Nicodemus,” Baz’s voice is like ice. Strangely, it’s very hot.

 

“That’s me,” he gives us a once over.

 

“My name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, and this is Simon Snow. We need you to tell us about the person who ordered the vampire attack on Watford.”

 

Typical Baz. No formalities, just immediately going for the throat. No vampire pun intended. Nicodemus, however, seems unimpressed.

 

“Why do you want to know?” his voice comes out as a drawl, and he and Baz begin to stare one another down.

 

“My aunt Fiona was attacked recently,” Baz says cooly. “She thinks it may be related, since my mother Visited her to solve her murder. She said you would have the answers.”

 

I don’t miss the look on Baz’s face when Nicodemus seems caught off guard by this information. It’s subtle, but the glint of triumph in his eye is unmistakable. I don’t know why I insist on fighting him all the time, when this proves I never stand a chance.

 

Nicodemus bounces back quickly, once he gets past Baz’s blunt declaration that one of his old friends was attacked, and he meets Baz’s gaze perfectly.

 

Baz’s aunt told us Nicodemus was stricken before we were born. It’s too bad. They look like they would get along so well. If he has stayed around Fiona while Baz was growing up, they might have been close. Even if he did become a vampire on purpose.

 

“Now, please enlighten me, Mr. Pitch, as to why your aunt didn’t come here tonight? And don’t give me any shit about her being scared. You and I both know Fiona can stare down a dragon.”

 

Baz pauses, and I fill the silence before I can stop to think about whether I should.

 

“Fiona’s in danger,” I say. My words are rushed, but I haven’t stumbled yet. “Baz is being blackmailed, and his side of the deal involves her directly. If she were here, it could put them both in danger.”

 

I don’t dare to look a Baz when I’m done, because I just know he’s looking at me like he wants to kill me. I can just feel it.

 

“If that’s true, Mr. Pitch, you should enlighten me as to who is blackmailing you,” Nicodemus’s eyes are alight with mischief, and I swear I see Baz’s aunt dance across his face for a second.

 

Baz looks like he’s deeply concentrating. His cheeks are fuller now, and I’m sure his fangs have popped out beneath them. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, because while I’ve been saying Baz is a vampire for years, it occurs to me that I’ve never actually seen his fangs. It should unsettle me, or make him feel less human, but it doesn’t. Somehow, it comforts me, and I think it’s because we’re on the same side now.

 

“If I do, you tell us who hired the vampires,” Baz’s voice is slightly muffled by his fangs, which glint in the low light of the room. 

 

“Deal,” Nicodemus doesn’t even think before speaking. “I will tell you anything you don’t know.”

 

Baz takes a deep breath, seemingly preparing for something.

 

“The Mage is blackmailing me.”

 

My blood runs cold immediately. I knew the Mage killed vampires, and didn’t feel bad about doing so, but I never thought he’d do something like this, taking something from someone else and holding it above their head. Not to a student. Not to Baz.

 

My shock must have been evident, because Baz immediately drops his arm, pulling away from me like I’ve scalded him. Even Nicodemus gathers himself, and begins to leave. Baz stops him, though. He grabs Nicodemus’ arm, glaring at him.

 

“You haven’t kept up your end of the deal,” he all but growls. But Nicodemus only grins brightly in response.

 

“Actually, I said I would tell you everything I didn’t know. But it looks to me like you already know everything. So, that’s the end of our deal.”

 

Nicodemus manages to shake Baz off of him, and before either of us can react, he maneuvers out of sight.

 

Baz storms out of the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I didn't post this chapter yesterday. I had a presentation and it completely slipped my mind. but it's here now, so enjoy!


	17. 17

**Baz**

I’m not sure what I’m planning to do when we leave. I’m sure Fiona and Bunce are waiting for us at the flat, but I just don’t want to go back yet. I can feel magic swimming underneath my skin, and I just want to burn things. I slam the door to Fiona’s car and barely wait for Snow to get in with me before I speed off.

 

I’m sure I’m scaring Simon. I must be. I am, after all, driving like a maniac. It doesn’t even matter that I’m spelling cars left and right so I don’t hit them. If anything, I’m sure it makes me look even more crazed. That coupled with the fact that I am very obviously driving in the opposite direction of Fiona’s flat, and the smell of smoke in the car makes sense.

 

I don’t know where I’m going, so I just follow roads. They get progressively smaller,  _until we’re driving along some woods, gravel kicking up beneath us and banging the bottom of the car._ I don’t care much about parking it, only making sure to not damage it, or Fiona will end the world. The car shakes when I storm out of it, and I’m too angry to even think to spell the doors shut so Simon can’t follow me.

 

Immediately, I start lighting things on fire. Trees, grass, anything my spells will reach. I can hear my father’s voice echoing in my ear “You’re flammable, Basilton,” as a bush bursts into flames nearby. The heat of them is closer than I’d like, but I don’t move.

 

_“Baz!”_

 

Hearing my name drags me out of my stupor, and I turn just in time to see Simon running towards me.

 

_“Fuck off, Snow!”_ is all I manage to say, and even then there’s less malice in the words than desperation.

 

He keeps coming towards me, arms raised and eyes darting around, like I’m a wounded animal. He doesn’t understand. He’ll never understand. I’m a failure. I’m a disgrace. My mother didn’t even love me enough to Visit me, because I’m a monster. And now I’ve lost the only chance to make things right. I’ve failed my mom. I’ve failed Fiona. And most of all, I’ve failed Simon.

 

Simon is walking towards me, slower now. The fire is getting much closer, and I think he’s scared I’ll just light myself up next.

 

“Snow, get away from here.” I take a step towards him, and he lights up. If only he knew I plan to push him away from the flames.

 

“Put the fire out, Baz,” He begs. “We can find some other way to get the name. Penny will help you think of something. Just put the fire out.”

 

I laugh, a hollow, awful laugh, but I’m taken by Simon’s optimism. Merlin help me, I love his boy to pieces. But the debris around us is burning fast, and I’ll need to spell him away from me.  _My last deed will be to save Simon Snow’s life, and my whole family will be ashamed._

 

I want to tell him about the emails, so I can see his face before I go, but I’m not sure I’ll have time. I want to kiss him, too, but I can’t cast without use of my mouth. And most importantly, I want him safe.

 

I raise my wand, racking my brain for the best way to push him as far back as possible, when Simon Snow collides with me.

 

**Simon:**

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have done that. Baz stumbles back, and it takes him a few feet to regain his balance. I’m clutching him like he’ll disappear if I let go, and with the look in his eyes, I think he might.

 

Baz’s arms are wrapped around me, but I know he won’t do nothing for long. I have to act first.

 

I have lots of magic, but I can’t control it worth anything, and I can’t think of any plan. My brain keeps short circuiting, and the only thing keeping me to earth is the feeling of Baz in my arms.  _I just want to be back at Watford in our room, knowing he’s there, and that he isn’t hurting anyone, and no one is hurting him._  There’s only one thing I can think of, one action I feel I can take, so I follow my impulse.

 

I reach up and meet Baz’s lips to mine.

 

**Baz:**

Simon Snow is kissing me.

 

_Is this a good kiss? I don’t know._

 

All I know is that he’s hot. _Everything is hot._ Whether it’s because of Simon or the fire, I don’t know.

 

I might die kissing Simon Snow. A charmed way to go, I’m sure. But I shouldn’t let him die kissing me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're having a good week. I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with the countdown or anything more. I've been really busy, and in light of the whole thing going on with Tumblr I'm looking into other places I can be where I can talk with you guys more (please let me know if you have any suggestions). Regardless, I hope you enjoy this week's chapter! This one heavily mirrors the original scene in Carry On, so I italicized the sections that are the same.


	18. 18

**Simon**

Baz’s lips are cold, and he’s not the best kisser. Not in a bad way. I think he just doesn’t have practice. But even if the kiss isn’t perfect, it feels perfect. Because he’s Baz. But the kiss is over too soon, and Baz is pulling away from me rather violently. He doesn’t get far, and by all definitions he’s still in my arms. He raises his wand, I think he’s going to spell me away. I close my eyes and wait for it.

 

“ **Make a wish!”** My eyes pop open in surprise just in time to see the nearest patch of flames go up in smoke.

 

Magic burns my veins as I watch Baz try to put out all the fire by himself, “throwing  **“Make a wish”** all around with reckless abandon. I feel helpless, and he looks tired, and I’m still half in his arms, and all I can think is that I wish I could give him some of my magic.

 

And I push.

 

And I do.

 

I don’t really know how to explain the feeling, but it feels a bit like being swept along by a river. Baz’s spell dies in his throat, just for a minute, and I push a little more, encouraging him. He’s steady in my arms, and he begins to cast again. His casting is louder now. His words carry more magic. A part of me is scared of lighting him on fire (after all, my magic smells like smoke, and he is flammable), but the way he casts eases my fears.

 

By the time all the fire is put out, both of us are tired, and I haven’t been thinking about the fact that we’re still in each others’ arms or that fact that we kissed as much as I should have by now. Silently, we trudge back over to Baz’s aunt’s car, and Baz begins to drive us back. I text Penny to let her know we’re on our way, trying to word it in a way that makes her ask less questions.

 

**Baz:**

Simon Snow has always amazed me, but Crowley, tonight takes the cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short (and late!) chapter! There was a mishap with my laptop on Friday, and I didn't have access to this fic for a few days. But since it's the holiday season, I'll probably try to post some extra chapters this week, and if you guys give me explicit interest on it, I might start dabbling with an AU idea I got from the Carry on Countdown prompt I did on my Tumblr (You should check it out @chip-off-the-writers-block, and tell me what you think). The general idea of it is that Watford is a "school" for magical people, but their purpose is really to help fictional entities (i.e characters in fairy tales, fables, myths, etc) right the wrongs of their past. Or if you have other prompts, send them my way on Tumblr or Wattpad too. Happy holidays, everyone!


	19. Chapter 19

**Baz**

I will admit that I spend the better part of the first half of the drive back alternating between figuring out where in Magic I took Snow and thinking about that kiss.

I kissed Simon Snow. It’s still sinking in. And better yet, he kissed me. First, even.

I’m not really sure why. The majority of my cynical self believes that it is because of his damn hero complex, and that he, in true Simon Snow fashion, is always trying to save people from themselves. A less cynical, more mushy part of me believes Simon Snow may actually like me. I try not to feed that notion too much.

It’s easy for me to avoid talking about it, because I’m driving, and I don’t expect Simon to figure out how to form a sentence for most of the journey, so I feel pretty confident in not having to figure out this evening for a long while. I do, however, resign to eventually have this conversation with Bunce, because I am certain she’ll be very interested in the sharing magic thing.

“Hey, Baz?” I suppose Simon has decided to continue to prove me wrong today.

“Yes, Simon?” I try to sound nonchalant, and ignore the jump in my chest from calling him Simon.

“So, about earlier, um, I’ve never done that before, so I didn’t really know what would happen.”

“Funnily enough, Snow, I think you’ve done that plenty of times. With Wellbelove, at least.”

I know I’m being snarky, but at this point, I can’t really stop it.

I’m looking at the road, so I can only see him out of the corner of my eye, but Snow looks uncomfortable.

“I mean the magic thing,” he says quietly.

“Oh, uh, right.” 

Don’t look at him, Baz. You’ll lose your resolve.

“The kiss was kind of new, too,” Snow adds. “In a good way, I mean.  But I’m sorry I sprung it on you like that. Merlin, if Penny knew, she would go on about how it’s not a romantic thing, but a predatory one. Especially since I never even asked if you fancied boys before-”

“I’m gay,” I cut him off before he can babble any longer. Crowley help me if Simon Snow thinks that he made  _ me  _ uncomfortable with that kiss, as if I haven’t been hopelessly in love with him since fifth year. “And that was my first kiss. And before you start babbling an apology, just don’t. It was nice.”

I see movement out of my peripheral vision, and when I glance over at Simon I see that he’s slouching now, relieved.

“Even if you are an oaf of a person,” I tack it on as an afterthought, to ignore the warm feeling in my stomach more than anything else.

“Hey!” Simon sits up so fast I barely have time to hide my smile. He’s gaping at me. He’s adorable. 

“Close your mouth before you drool all over my aunt’s car.”

Simon pouts at that. I think I might burst into flames right now. Flammable doesn’t begin to cover the danger of the warmth in my chest.

“You’re one to talk about ruining the car,” he says after a moment with a huff. “You’re the one who drove us out to the middle of nowhere.”

I don’t have any snarky retort to that, other than pointing out that he kissed my idiotic self anyway, so I stay quiet.

We’re getting close to London,and subsequently, Fiona’s flat, which is good, because Simon has never been a quiet thinker. He is loud in everything he does, and when he thinks, it’s tangible. He shakes his leg and the room fills with a soft vibration of magic. His brow is furrowed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He’s still sucking air in through his mouth, though, so it makes quite a bit of noise.

Mouth breather, my mind helpfully supplied. But even if I’m taunting him in my mind, I know that I have to tell him eventually. About the emails. About the Mage. About how I’m so hopelessly in love with him, and I want another kiss. More than just one, if he’s willing. Crowley, one kiss and I’m about ready to beg this boy to marry me. Merlin help me.

“Hey, Snow,” I say finally, voice barely above a murmur.

I instinctively keep my voice low, like I’m afraid I’ll spook him. In a way, I am. He does snap out of his thinking rather violently, and turns to me with wide eyes. I grip the steering wheel tighter and stare at the road. It’s now, or never, Basilton.

“When we were in the vampire den, with Nicodemus, I said that the Mage was blackmailing me. Well, it’s true. He wants to tell the world I’m gay, but more importantly, he wants to out someone I’ve been talking to, too. He doesn’t know who he is, because we’ve been emailing with pen names.”

I force myself to swallow what little saliva I haven’t gathering myself before continuing.

“And I shouldn’t have been worried, but I couldn’t help but be worried that if the Mage released everything, it would scare Cinder off. And I couldn’t handle that.”

I let silence permeate the car, and I sat patiently as Simon’s brain caught up with my words. He’s gaping at me, still. Idiot. I love him.

He sits there for several moments, and for a second I fear that I had been wrong this whole time. Simon Snow is not Cinder. He regrets the kiss. I’ve made a mistake.

“I’m Cinder,” he says finally, and I release a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.

I take the next exit towards Fiona’s house, and I don’t hide my smile. I must get to absorbed in my thoughts, because Simon suddenly speaks, and I think it’s been a short while.

“Are you disappointed it’s me?” Simon says, voice small. I feel my chest tighten. “I mean, I’m not a good mage. I’m not even that good of a person. I mean, you always tell me I’m dull, and you’re right-”

I pull the car over immediately, no longer able to take it anymore. The road to Fiona’s is in a well-lit residential area, and the streetlights behind Simon are illuminating his hair, giving him an ethereal glow. He’s staring down at his hands in his lap. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to face him, his face in shadows but obviously in distress.

“Listen here, Simon Snow, and listen well. You are dense, ungraceful, and a glutton. You think loudly and you have a hero complex. But you’re brave to a fault, and just so full of life. You are so bright and heroic, and I could never have asked for someone better to have reached out to me.”

Simon’s looking at me now. His eyes are bright and wet, his lips are parted. I take a deep breath.

“When you first sent me that email, I thought for certain that it was going to be hate mail. I was so used to the slurs, and when I saw your email, I thought you wanted to insult me, too. But instead, you were nice, and talked to me like a person, not like a terrifying homo or like a Grimm-Pitch. Honestly, I fell nearly immediately.” 

I think about talking more, but Simon is leaning close to me in that instant. I open my arms to welcome his warm frame, and then he’s kissing me.

Everything with Simon is always scaldingly hot, and this is no exception. I’ve known I was deranged for a while now, but this is new, even for me. After three years of pining, I finally let myself consider the idea of having Simon. Conveniently, he’s already in my arms, so there’s little persuasion needed.

When we finally do pull back, Simons has a bright grin plastered against his face, and I feel my lips twitching in response. I stop trying to hide it, and when Simon throws himself at me again, I know it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I'm posting this chapter a little bit early, so I don't forget to tomorrow. And I just want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all the support I've been getting so far with this. I don't reply to all the comments, but know that every single one strikes a chord with me. We're getting towards the end of this story, and I'm not really certain what I should do once this one is done. If you have any suggestions, please let me know!


	20. 20

**Simon**

When we walk into Baz’s aunt Fiona’s flat, Penelope and Fiona only look slightly suspicious. By the looks of it, they were having tea and waiting for us, and they stand up to look at us as we walk in. I think they notice that I am barely holding myself back from grabbing onto Baz and never letting go.

Baz, on the other hand, has barely given me a second glance since we walked through the door, and acts as if nothing happened. Instead, he walks straight over to Fiona.

“Nicodemus was a dead end,” He says bluntly. I flinch. Fiona does not.

“Well what did he tell you?” She asks cooly. Everything Baz’s aunt does is cool.

“That we already knew everything we need to know.”

Baz’ aunt thinks for a moment, sitting back down.

“Nico wouldn’t say that unless it were true,” she says finally.

“Well, unless the Mage murdered my mother, ‘Nico’ was wrong,” exasperation is evident in Baz’s voice as he speaks.

The room falls silent. I see gears working in Penny’s brain.

“David murdered Natasha,” Fiona says finally, breaking the silence.

“According to the theory of Occam's Razor, that is right,” Penny agrees.

My stomach flips uncomfortably. I feel like I do after eating too many scones at dinner, nauseous and tired. The Mage hired vampires. The Mage killed Baz’s mom. The Mage blackmailed Baz. The Mage is happy to kill vampires. The Mage never wanted me around over break.

The Mage was using me.

Baz locks eyes with me, and somehow, I feel better.

“What should we do about it, then?” My voice surprises me more than anyone else.

“We plan,” Baz says, striding over to the table. He starts shuffling around, looking for paper and pens, and I readily follow him.

It’s going to be a long night.

**Baz**

Plotting it my specialty, handed down to me from generations of crafty Pitches. However, in this instance, I’m at a loss. The Mage (or David, as Fiona called him) is such an influential person in the Magick community. I don’t think he’s particularly crafty, and his plots are simple. On an even battlefield, it should be laughably easy to take him down. But we are not fighting against the Mage on an even playing field. We’re fighting in a game where the most powerful cards are position, and his hand is stacked. Without concrete evidence, it’ll be my word against his, and under the circumstances, the Coven is more inclined to believe him than me.

Leave it to me to be in the one situation where I am completely in the right, but my family name would obscure justice against me.

I try my best to come up with a plan anyway, but I’m having a difficult time with it. Mostly because Simon is staring at me with giant doe eyes from across the table, and Fiona keeps giving me suspicious glances. I deflect Fiona easily, but Simon’s starting to get to me. Bunce is being helpful,helpful, but she’s also getting frustrated with how little Simon is paying attention. Not surprised, just frustrated. I vaguely think about what that implies, but don’t let myself get too deep into it. If I do, I’ll begin to doodle hearts with his name in them, like a vapid schoolgirl. I refuse to let that happen.


	21. 21

**The Mage**

Simon has gone missing, which simply will not do. I went to his and the young Pitch boy’s room to find it empty. I wanted to take him out for more training, but I was unable to find Simon anywhere. I can only conclude that Simon has left Watford grounds, which is not explicitly against the rules, but I have never allowed Simon to do so in the past.

It’s quite troubling to me that he would do so now, especially in light of the emails on the Pitch boy’s mobile. I fear that Simon could be a tainted vessel, under the thrall of the Old Families, which can only spell doom for his prophecy.

I suppose it is my fault. I’ve never really stepped back to see how impressionable Simon is. He’s a broken vessel, unable to take on all of this pressure I’ve put on him. He is unable to properly be the Greatest Mage. So it’s my duty, as his guardian and the catalyst of the prophecy, to relieve him of his duty.

**Nicodemus**

Despite what Fiona might have believed, I was never meant to get soft with age. I did, of course, have a soft spot for her, and an even greater weakness for my sister, but I know Fiona always believed that one day I would be a fun uncle to Natasha’s kids. And I know I disappointed her today, because I didn’t cave to the exact child she’s sure I would love. But there was one oversight she never took into consideration.

She was right.

I may not have ever considered telling these kids what they want to hear, but I do regard them with some amount of fondness. Enough to try to keep them safe, at least. Besides, if Basilton is anything like his mother, he’ll figure it out soon enough.

I am, however, fearful for what is to come. There’s a storm coming, all of the vampires, werewolves, and other rejects know that much. The Mage has been seizing things from the Old Families, and he’s scared.

He’s scared of Simon. Scared of the power Basilton has over him. And for good reason. As good as his reasoning can be, at least.

I saw the way Basilton and Simon looked at each other while they were in the bar. And if the Mage is even a fraction as observant as the average vampire, well…

Which is why, as soon as I had left the bar and was sure that I had lost the boys, I headed straight back to the school. My stomach is tight and sour with paranoia. There’s a rule that I have: visit Ebb on Christmas, and never any other time. I am Stricken, after all, and Ebb is still a Mage. She never even acknowledges that I’m there, though I’m sure she knows. My sister is very clever, after all. But the anxiety tightening in my gut is worth breaking the rules for. My twin intuition has never been wrong before, and I’m sure as hell not risking it now.

I don’t actually know what the twin intuition is telling me, but I do know that it’s bad. I can see Watford’s gates in the distance, so I’m in a full sprint now. I can run fairly easily despite the increasing tightness in my chest. One of the perks of being a vampire, I suppose. 

Watford is the same as I remember it to be, and a pang of nostalgia hits me unexpectedly. I lose the rhythm of my run for a moment, overcome with confusion. I’ve never missed Watford before, even when I visited Ebb before. But now, I feel the ache of familiarity in my chest, and for a brief moment, I let myself think about what could have been. Well, you live and learn, even if you aren’t really alive, I suppose.

Ebb’s shack is warm and inviting compared to the grandness of Watford in the late night sky. The loud but soft bleating of tired sheep and the soft glow coaxing their way out of the windows is alluring. Mesmerizing, even. But instead of letting the light pull me into the house, I climb up on the roof, every sound and scuffle I make to a beat known only to me.

I’m careful, of course, to climb onto Ebb’s roof the exact same way every single time, so she’ll know it’s me. I like to think that by now, she has the rhythm memorized, and won’t find it strange that I’ve shown up on the wrong day.

I sit there, in the darkness of the night, and I wait. The occasional sheep bleat and the chirping of crickets keep me company, and I try to distract myself with them rather than count the time that passes. While it fails, it softens the tension in my shoulders until I see a slice of light cut through the darkness, with my sister’s shadow following close behind.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and despite myself I feel a grin tugging at my lips.

“It’s a nice evening out,” Ebb’s voice has sounded so much sadder since I Turned. I don’t blame her. I doubt Fiona has visited much since I did.

“You should talk to me back, one day,” she continues. “We’ve broken the rules so many times before, and you broke them up until that day. So I don’t see why we should stop now.”

She stops, and waits much longer than usual. I know she’s waiting for me, but I am not ready yet.

“Why did you even come today?” 

I stare up at the stars, gears turning in my head. I can hear Ebb sniffling on the porch beneath me.

“I was scared,” I say finally, the emotion in my voice surprising even myself. “I got this twin sense, but it’s so much more than that. I was scared of ruining your life more by forcing you to break the rules. I was scared of having to face Fiona. I was just… So scared, Ebb.”

“What is happening today?”   
  


“I’m not sure yet. But I’m sure as hell not going to let you suffer for it.”

I think of something, and I grin despite myself.

“Sister dear, do you want to go on an adventure?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got an extra chapter up! Sorry it took a while. Happy belated holidays to everyone! This story is getting close to the end, which I feel like I've been saying every update. But it's true. There are only a few chapters left! So the question still stands: what should I do after? I, of course, have other things I'm doing, including original writing, as well as other, non hobby things. But I might write another carry on fic, since Wayward Son is supposed to come out soon, and only if there's a real want for it. Please please let me know!


	22. 22

**Fiona**

It’s nearly 4 in the morning when I get a knock at my door. 

 

Basilton and I tense up immediately. Penelope eyes the door carefully, adjusting herself to prepare, and Simon flat out raises his wand. What a silly boy. I hope Basilton keeps him.

 

I walk up to the door quietly, letting magic thrum in my veins, just in case. I muster my best death glare and throw the door open dramatically.

 

Nicodemus and Ebeneza Petty stand on my doorstep. Ebb nervously fidgets with her sleeves as Nico looks at me with a cocky grin. Magic leaves my limbs, leaving relief where there was previously tension. A smile wins over my face as Nico takes a step towards me.

 

The sound he makes when his stomach connects with my fist is incredibly satisfying.

 

Ebb winces. I do feel slightly bad about punching Nico, at least in front of Ebb. But I did invite him in before dragging him inside, so that should at least count for something. By the lack of pain in his face, I would think he’s grateful.

 

All three of the kids are staring at me when I bring them in. Simon and Penelope immediately rush over to Ebb, who I will admit seems happy to see them. More happy than she was to see me. I ignore the twinge in my chest.

 

Basilton walks cautiously up to me, looking at Nico the whole while. I step away from him and let my nephew do the interrogating.

 

I do my best to glide elegantly over to the nearest couch, before less than gracefully slumping into it. I let my eyes tiredly jump from person to person, taking it all in. My arms ache. Hell, my chest aches. I missed Ebb and Nico. So much. And Natasha, too. I really thought I had forgotten how much I missed them all. And yet, the hurt has returned.

 

My eyes linger on Ebb for a moment, then slide over to Nico. Maybe I missed them a little more than I miss Natasha.

 

I swear to Magic itself that I will make the man who tore the people I love most away from me pay.

 

The Mage  _ will  _ pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter is really short, but I had a lot of fun writing as Fiona. I thought aboout trying to get a second chapter up this week, but I've been really busy, so I don't think that's happening. Also, thank you all so much for the support on this story! Simon Snow Vs. is at just over 2.5k hits on Ao3, which is amazing.
> 
> As always, give me feedback/corrections, and follow me on Tumblr(@chip-off-thewriters-block), if you want. And find me on Wattpad, if you also want to look at some of my non fanfiction writings (@chipoff-writersblock)


	23. 23

**The Mage**

Calling a dragon is hard work. It takes a lot of magic, after all. It’s quite a chore to do so, but a calamity of this size will surely draw some powerful mages here. Hopefully, Simon will be among them.

_ Traitor _ , my brain hisses, as magic saps at my soul. And I agree. Simon betrayed me. But it will be alright. There will be no sacrifice more tragic or more celebrated than his.

Blood rushes through my ears and magic licks like flames in my veins. The sounds are so loud that I nearly miss the sound of the slow flapping of wings, and I turn to see a dragon, large and menacing.

_ Perfect _ .

**Simon**

I can see the dragon heading for the Weeping Tower, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. Without thinking, I grab Baz’s hand and drag him towards the Tower with me. I can’t really focus on anything, but I can feel him twist around in my grip and I can hear him say something. The pressure of me dragging Baz suddenly goes away.

I panic for a second, only to realize that Baz is not running beside me. I look at him for a moment, and he flashes me a brilliant smile. My heart flutters, and I hold onto his hand tighter. He squeezes back.

The climb up the Weeping tower is exhausting, but with Baz, I feel like I could fly. My stomach lurches the way it always does when I have time to think about a fight before it happens. And it hits me.

I’m going to fight the Mage. I’m going to fight a dragon that the Mage called.

I’m going to fight the Mage with my boyfriend.

**Baz**

If anyone had told me a year ago that Simon Snow would choose an alliance with me over the Mage, I would have believed whoever has told me had gone mad. Or that I had gone mad. Either way, I would have chalked it up to madness.

And yet, here I am, running with the Chosen One himself on our way to fight the Mage. Who had summoned a dragon, apparently. Merlin, my life is a mess. A charmed, beautiful mess, with a pretty boy in it.

It takes much longer for Simon and me to get to the top of the Weeping Tower than it should, which I blame on Simon and the way his shoulder kept brushing against mine as we climbed the stairs. It threw off my balance, and caused me to lose my pace on more than one occasion. So effectively, this is Simon’s fault.

I make sure to tell him as such, when we’re nearly at the top. He just brushes his shoulder against mine more firmly in response. Cheeky bastard.

There are storm clouds gathering by the time we get to the top of the tower, which doesn’t surprise me, because it fits the mood and my life is a goddamn fairy tale. The Mage looks more unkempt than I’ve ever seen him, hair wild and clothing wrinkled in multiple places. The Mage’s face is split with a wide, unseemly grin as he sees us, with the dragon hovering menacingly behind him. He’s the picture of evil. And I should know, because I spent most of my life cultivating myself to look exactly like that. Granted, I like to believe I appear less maniacal than that mastermind wannabe.

“Simon, you came!” 

My stomach lurches. The Mage sounds gleeful. Too gleeful. I tighten my hold on Simon’s hand, as if that can save him.

The Mage walks over to us. Simon tenses up beside me. I want nothing more than to be able to save him from having this battle, but I can’t.

“Simon, I now see the error of my plan,” The Mage says, nodding as if he were giving sage-like wisdom. “I now see that the title of “Mage’s Heir” was not something you were ready for. You are only a broken vessel, after all. So now, I will right the wrong by relieving you of your duty.”

The Mage lunges at Simon, and I feel panic rising within me. Before I know it, I’ve pushed Simon aside, and the two of us are a few feet away from the Mage, who is slowly gaining his bearings again.

The chill of the night air feels warm, and if it weren’t for the glow of orange above me, I would think it’s because of adrenaline.

Instead, I look up,and come face to face with a hulking dragon. Breathing fire.

Well, luckily for the Mage, and unluckily for me, I’m flammable.

Well, step one is backup, I guess. Penelope and Fiona can feasibly help us, while Ebeneza and Nicodemus cast support spells from the shadows like planned. Step two is distracting the Mage long enough to neutralize the dragon threat. It’ll be hard to beat, but maybe I can send it home without fighting it. I start reciting every nursery rhyme I know, see if anything might be helpful.

Simon, however, is not an analyst. Which is fine.But it puts him in danger now. My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of him getting hurt. He’s gotten up into a fighting stance, since I was plotting, and I scramble to my feet  now, too. The Mage is throwing curses and spells recklessly, which Simon is deflecting fairly well. He looks surprisingly focused.

I can feel it that the Mage doesn’t stand a chance against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super sorry if this chapter transition doesn't work well. I lost a chapter somehow, and I cannot for the life of me remember what was in it. I'm going to try to figure it out, and if I can, I'll add the chapter in between.


	24. 24

**Simon**

I don’t stand a chance against the Mage.

It takes all my focus to just deflect everything he throws at me with magic. My arms are already tired and heavy, but they buzz with magic. It’s a strange feeling, but I keep performing magic, anyway. After all, everyone is counting on me. Especially Penny and Baz. So I can do this.

I can feel worry buzzing around with the magic, but I don’t let myself look up. I know there’s a dragon there, but I’m afraid of what the Mage will do if I look away from him. I think I hear footsteps. But maybe it’s the blood pounding in my ears.

The Mage seems to be looking at something behind me, and by the time I gather myself enough to raise my wand, a spell is flying past me.

A streak of vibrant purple runs past me.

**Fiona**

I am so glad to be away from the numpties.

As soon as Baz and SImon took off, we were swarmed by the things. Big, ugly oafs, they are.I thought for sure Penelope and I were going to be stalled from helping forever, but Nico and Ebb are an unstoppable force, as usual.

Penelope Bunce is a little spitfire of a mage. It’s amazing. It’s only a shame that Baz isn’t better friends with the girl. I do get the feeling that I’ll see her around more from here on out, though. Which is good. Given the opportunity, I’d like to take her under my wing.

As soon as we take this little leprechaun down.

**Baz**

Thank magic for Penelope Bunce. And my aunt Fiona, of course. They came running up here like Hell is spilling over (it is), and are now I don’t have to worry about the Mage while I deal with this dragon.

My best guess to deal with this thing is a nursery rhyme. “Ladybird, Ladybird”. It’s gonna take a lot of magic, though, and I’m not entirely certain where I plan to get it from. I can’t worry about it now, though. 

I take a deep breath and look up at the dragon. I collect as much magic as I can muster, letting it pool in my fingertips and my lungs, sweeter than honey and lighter than air.

**“Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home!** ” I shout, magic coating my tongue.  **“Your house is on fire, and your children are gone!”**

The first line is for small, easily swayed things. Roaches and mice and such. But the whole thing, the whole rhyme might work on a dragon. Or, at least, I can hope it does.

**“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children shall burn. All except one, and her name is Nan, and she hid under the porridge pan.”**

The Dragon above me begins to circle, wings beginning to slow down. She wants to go home as much as I want to send her. I can already feel the magic draining from my body, and I focus all of my energy on this spell.

**“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn.”**

The dragon lands in front of me, and I feel a spike of anxiety. The dragon’s mouth is so close, and her breath is warm. One breath and I would be gone. But I can’t stop now.

**“All but one, and that’s little John, and he lies under the grindle stone.**

**“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn.”**

My arms are shaking, I know they are. I can see them, and I can feel them. Magic is leaving my body at an alarming rate, and my lungs feel too small. But I need to keep going.

**“All except one, and her name is Aileen, and she hid under a soup tureen.”**

The dragon is getting blurrier in front of me. It’s getting hard to see it, and part of me is scared the spell isn’t working. I feel like I’m on the verge of collapse, but I feel the flow of magic enter me. My eyes snap back into focus, and I dart them to the side. Simon is there, warm and filling me with magic. It lifts my heart, and I feel my voice finding itself, stronger than before. 

**“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn!”**

I feel a gust of wind on my face, and I’m sure that the dragon is about to scorch me. I force my arm up, trying to shield Simon, only to realize that the wind is cool and the dragon is leaving, but it’s too late, and Simon is staring up at me, in my arms and looking so concerned for me.

That spell took so much out of me, and I’m borderline delirious, and I’m certain that it’s impairing my judgement. Because suddenly, I don’t care that I’m in the middle of an intense battle with one of the most powerful figures in magic, or that Simon and I were enemies a day ago. I don’t even care what kind of danger this could put me in.

I pull Simon in, and I kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter once again has more content from the original Carry On. My life has been hectic basically all month, and I've been really happy with this work being a constant. I'm really sad that it's almost over. I only have three or four chapters planned left for this work, so be prepared for the end!


	25. 25

**Baz**

I will never get tired of kissing Simon Snow. 

I don’t even think I’ll get used to it.

The world fades away, because I can focus on nothing but Simon, in front of me and amazing.

Noise startles me out of the kiss, and I pull away from Simon just in time to see the Mage running at us, and Penny and Fiona trying to stop him.

My first instinct is to push Simon away, to keep him safe.

My second instinct is to pool magic in my hands.

The third is to brace for impact.

Only the first one happens.

I sorely underestimated the amount of energy it took for me to send the dragon away, even with Simon’s help, and my muscles are sore and unwilling even when I push Simon out of the Mage’s crazed line of fire. I spend the rest of my few seconds trying in vain to pull up magic in my veins, any amount. By the time I realize it’s not coming, there’s little more I can do but close my eyes and accept my fate.

I wait for the impact.

It never comes.

I think I hear Bunce yelling, but she’s so far away, and her voice is out of focus. 

The world seems to spin beneath me, and I fight to keep my footing.

I lose.

**Simon:**

Baz pushes me away from the Mage as soon as he sees him sprinting towards us. And yet I’m the one with the hero complex. Baz looks lost, like he doesn’t have a plan, and all I can feel is a numb sense of fear. He keeps flicking his hands, waiting for magic, but all he can do is watch as small sparks fly up and fizzle out. He’s exhausted, paler than I’ve ever seen him and tired. He looks like he’s starving.

The Mage, on the other hand, is running with a purpose. He looks so angry in a way I never thought the Mage capable of, and as I’m trying to think of anything I can do to stop this, I realize.

I’m watching a psychopathic monster and a trusted ally fight one another.

And Baz is the ally.

It’s hard for me to think clearly, and I feel like the breath has been knocked from my chest. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something, anything I can do. Everything is warm, and I smell smoke. Magic crawls around under my skin, and I feel like throwing up. Then, I feel an itching. 

The Mage stops running.

Never in my life have I been happy to feel the Humdrum.

My relief is short lived, because in the next minute, Baz goes down. I fight the urge to run to him immediately, because the Humdrum is walking towards me. He’s throwing that little ball around and wearing my face, and everything feels cold.

“Simon!” Penny’s voice pulls me away from the Humdrum.

I feel magic, but I don’t think it’s mine. The Humdrum looks at me, and smiles before turning around and looking at the source of the magic. 

I look, too.

The Mage stands there, magic radiating form his pores and a smile worse than the Humdrum’s plastered across his face. The itching feeling intensified, and the Humdrum takes a step towards the Mage.

“I am empty,” he begins. “And you are full. Not as full as others, but enough for now.”

The feeling of nothingness gets so much worse, and it knocks the air from my lungs. The Mage’s smile fades, and he instead looks panicked. He begins to step back, edging away until he’s run out of room to run. The Humdrum keeps taking, and taking, getting closer to the Mage until his hands  are on the Mage’s wrists. I suddenly think of Baz and have the idea. The idea to give.

Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out to the Humdrum. To myself. I take the biggest steps I can while being quiet. Somehow, I don’t want to startle him. And I put my hands on his shoulders. He turns back to look at me, and I muster up as much magic as I can, and I push.

I close my eyes, and imagine opening doors, finding magic that I never thought of, but before I can, my arms fall.

I open my eyes, and the Humdrum is gone.

The Mage is staring up at me, anger twisting his face in an unflattering way. I suddenly feel tired, but I can still feel magic crackling under my skin.

The Mage throws his arms out at me.

Nothing happens.

The Mage stares at his hands for a moment, confused, before flicking his arms determinedly at me again.

Still, nothing happens.

So he tackles me to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for not updating for a couple of weeks, it just totally slipped my mind. So, I'm giving you all the rest of the chapters today! And I promise I'll start a new Carry On fic soon (esp. since Wayward Son will be out in Sept!). It might take me a bit, because this one requires a lot of planning, so stay on the lookout. I haven't been on Tumblr that much, but I'm going to try to fix that, so come talk to me there if you have any questions!


	26. 26

**Penelope**

When the Mage takes Simon to the ground, I scream.

I realize that he doesn’t have much magic left, if any at all. But Simon also has so little, and I’m scared that the Mage will still hurt him. I rush over to them, but I don’t know what I will do. SImon is struggling.

“Just give me your magic, Simon,” The mage says through gritted teeth, grabbing at Simon’s throat.

“Just give it all to me, and I can end your suffering. I can relieve you of this burden.”

Simon barely pushes the Mage’s hands away from his throat, keeping the Mage from scratching apart his skin.

“Please stop,” he begs, redirecting the Mage more than fighting back. “Stop it.”

**“Simon says,”** I let magic seep into my voice.

**“Stop hurting me!”**

The Mage stops abruptly, hands frozen in space. Anger contorts the Mage’s face, and I’m certain that if he had any magic to try to break this spell, the spell would have killed him, instead. His eyes are crazed, and he doesn’t give up easily.

I turn to look at Simon, who is scared and confused, and I don’t blame him. I gently pul, him into a hug, and I feel him a shaky but clear deep breath.

You get to exhale now, Simon.

**Fiona:**

The sound of footsteps behind me, solid and familiar on the cold stone,tells me that Ebb and Nico have finished with the Numpties.

The joy of seeing them together again twists my heart in a way I didn’t know possible, and brings up an emotion that I thought had long since left.

Crowley, I’ve missed them so much.

Nico glances at something when they come up the stairs, confusion furrowing his brow. Ah, that’s right. Basilton. My nephew. I walk over to him, and Simon scrambles away from Penelope to follow behind me.

That dragon really took a lot out of him.

I do my best to heal him up, with as many  **“Get well soon”** s and  **“Early to bed, early to rise”** s as I can. After seven or so, he begins to stir. I can feel a shuffling behind me, and I glance back to see Simon staring at Baz with wide, worried eyes. I smile at him gently and step to the side, letting him rush over to my nephew.

Oh, Natasha, Basilton chose a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, one of the things I wanted to get to do after reading Carry On was have a fic where Simon didn't lose his magic in the fight with the Mage. Idk why, but it just felt so unsatisfying to me. Also, let's play a game. Spot the Love, SImon quote! (Don't worry. It's not a spoiler quote. But it is one of my favorites.


	27. 27

**Baz**

My head hurts, and I feel something solid behind my back. I slowly force my eyes open, and am met with the worried face of Simon.

Despite myself, I grin. I sit up slowly, groaning immediately. Crowley, my head hurts.

But if a headache is all it takes for Simon Snow to hug me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive, then send me up against psychopathic heads of the Magickal world more often. 

“What happened?” my throat grates against itself uncomfortably as I try to speak. Merlin, I’m so thirsty.

Simon pulls back and sits on his knees, staring at me for a moment, and then suddenly there is much more noise than I can handle. Bunce and Simon immediately start talking over each other, both speaking much too quickly. Fiona is decidedly not helping, as she’s speaking slower and more sparsely, but it making no effort to actually be the only one contributing.

I hold my arms up in attempt to get everyone to stop, which works on everyone but Simon. He keeps babbling on, which would be fine if I had any context up to this point. But I don’t. So I do the only thing that will get him to shut up: I kiss him.

I keep the kiss short and chaste, but Simon still manages to look quite scandalized when I pull back. It’s actually quite adorable. His cheeks are red and he’s spluttering like an idiot. I am enamored, he’s so cute.

Fiona seems amused, but Bunce is decidedly not. I think about asking her why, but stop when I hear her mumble something about football. It’s not my problem, then.

After a small bit of discussion, they decide to leave Simon here with me and the incapacitated Mage, while Fiona and Bunce contact the proper authorities. Mainly the Old Families and the Coven.

It becomes evident as soon asn Fiona and Bunce leave that Simon Snow is going to kill me.

He shuffles over until his back is against my chest, and has the gall to not twist around to face me and tell me what happened until my arm is wrapped around his shoulder. Which he eventually moves there himself, because it’s “probably more comfortable for you, Baz”. 

“So, after you went down, the Humdrum came, and he was going to come face me, but the Mage for some reason had more magic out at the time, so the Humdrum went and took his magic, and now he possibly has none. But the Humdrum is gone, now, because Penny says that he didn’t make the dead spots, because he IS a dead spot. Well, was a dead spot. So I put as much magic as I could in him, but now I maybe still have some left.”

I pay attention to Simon’s story as well as I can, and I say I did a good job, considering all the distractions, as well as Simon’s inability to not ramble.

When he’s finally done, he turns to look at me. Like he’s expecting something. So I kiss him on the forehead. Mostly to see him turn red again, but also because I want to be affectionate. Not that I’d ever tell anyone that.

“Why’d you do this?” I gesture to how close we are.

Simon furrows his brow and waits a moment before speaking.

“I was worried,” he says finally. “When the Humdrum showed up and you collapsed. I was afraid that something really awful had happened, and I just need to remind myself that you’re really here now, and you’re okay.”

Simon Snow cares so much, and with his entire being. Wellbelove can eat her heart out. She has no idea what she’s given up.

“I’m not going anywhere, Simon,” I promise. 

Footsteps echo up to us from the stairs, and Simon and I reluctantly pull apart. He helps me stand up, and my lightheadedness lets me lean on him in a less intimate manner than before.

What follows can only be described as a whirlwind.


	28. 28

**Simon**

It’s difficult to remember everything that happened after Penny’s mom shows up. Penny sends her a bird, and she shows up and takes care of everything.

They take the Mage away. He kept talking about how I stole his magic, but Mrs. Bunce tells me that I’m not responsible for what happened. They won’t even force me to be there for the Mage’s legal proceedings. I’m very thankful for that.

The Coven told all three of us that we could take a year off, and return with no consequences. Penny and I are taking the year off. Baz just wants to get school over with.

Penny is already studying for next year. She says it’s because she has to work hard to earn the respect of the kids younger than us. I just think she’d go mad without something to read. Penny says I should start studying, too.

If I’m honest, I don’t know if I should go back at all. My magic is entirely different than before, and I don’t know if the magic inside me is left over from the Humdrum, or if it’s the Mage’s. I hate using it. The feeling of magic sends my stomach into knots now.

I have a therapist now. Apparently what I’ve been through counts as a traumatic event. She says that I can take as much time as I need before the magic feels normal again. I’m not sure it ever will, but that’s okay.

**Baz**

The Leaver’s Ball takes much less time to arrive than expected. I’m top of the class, but only because no one ever came close to me and Bunce, and after she dropped out, there was little competition. Though, I do remember Simon telling me that Bunce believed I still would have won, because my Elocution grade has always been three points above hers. As if her raw tenacity in other classes wouldn’t have pushed her over the top.

Mitali Bunce is the new headmistress, and I’m surprised, but pleased. She’s a spitfire, and I see where her daughter gets it from. I think my mom would approve of her getting the position. Much more than she would have approved the Mage, at least.

She brought a Normal carnival here, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t care for it at all. Simon looks radiant when he’s excited, and since he’s a child, he adores this sort of thing.

I am, however, terrified of the contraption he’s pulling me towards.

Simon calls it a ferris wheel, and I call it a death trap. Ferris wheels are cool, in theory, but this one is creaky and wobbly in all the wrong ways. Simon says that, as a vampire, this sort of thing shouldn’t scare me. I say that a ferris wheel is just a large collection of silver and stakes, and therefore have even more reason to fear it than the average mage.

I let him drag me along, and I pretend to hate it more by grumbling about him ruining my suit. It’s technically true. He’s wearing one of mine, in an immaculate navy that brings his eyes. He eats like a boar.

“We don’t need to do this,” I say, staring at Simon, who’s already on the ride.

“But I want to,” he reaches out for me. I follow.

“People will talk, you know,” I keep my voice low.

“About what?” he asks.

“Us,” I look up at the sky so I can’t get lost in his eyes. “They’ll know we’re gay. That you’re gay. Or at least, they’ll know you’re not straight.”

“I don’t care about them,” I glance at Simon while he talks, marvelling at the fact his eyes are trained where mine were only moments ago. “I’m hardly a mage, anyway. What they think won’t cost me anything. I don’t have family outside of Penny’s, and they love me regardless. I only have you to lose.”

I look at Simon incredulously. He cannot be serious.

“Sorry.” He grins at me, and I just about melt. “Did I make too much sense? Let me try that again then. Basilton, I’m insane and impulsive and in love, so let’s run off into the sunset.”

Laughter escapes from my mouth, and my heart flutters unhelpfully when Simon smiles back at me. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. I shake my head. This boy.

“Simon Snow, you will be the death of me.” I kiss him, quick and certain, and pull back before Simon can coax me into a snogging session.

The Ferris wheel has stopped, and we’re at the top. I’ve wrapped my arm around Simon, because he’s warm, and I’m cold. He tries to bat me away, says my hands are cold, and I hold him just a little tighter.

“Simon,” I say, serious and low. I surprise him with another kiss when he looks at me.

“Remember when you asked me if I was disappointed that you’re Cinder?”

Simon nods, slow and uncertain.

“Well, I was wondering if you regret that I turned out to be Ebony,” I say, sheepish. “I’ve been awful to you since school started, even more so when you tried to set me up with Wellbelove, and if I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time with me.”

Simon turns to look at me. He’s radiant.

“I will be entirely honest with you.”

 

I nod, and the world begins to spin again. Literally. The ferris wheel begins to move, and I tighten my grip on Simon out of reflex. I see his smile, and I know he noticed.

“I am so dense. I never knew it was you, but it’s because I never thought that there would only be one person in the entire school that sounds like you. But when you told me, I was so happy. My possibly-gay-awakening roommate is the person I’ve been crushing on all semester. It was perfect. You would never be disappointing, Baz.”

I kiss Simon Snow, deep and fierce. And fireworks go off. Metaphorically, but also in the sky. Simon pulls away from me to marvel at the bright explosions, and the Ferris wheel finally takes us to the ground.

Simon smiles at me, and even hours later, I still feel like I’m floating, like I’m still on the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, this is the end. It's been a wonderful ride. I'm not 100% happy with the ending, so I might write an epilogue of sorts. Either way, I love you all. Thank you so much for all your support on this fic, and in general. You're wonderful! Until next time! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy, I love feedback, including criticism. The current plan is to update this story every Friday.
> 
> Come find me!  
> Tumblr: @chip-off-the-writers-block  
> Wattpad: @chipoff-writersblock


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